


Sweet Creature

by hydratedbarnes



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood Drinking, Drug Use, F/M, First Times, Fluff, Human/Vampire Relationship, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Menstruation Kink, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Vampire Bites, Vampire!Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 47,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25352257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydratedbarnes/pseuds/hydratedbarnes
Summary: In a world where monsters and creatures live, you find yourself trying to survive with one after a virus leaves all humans a walking corpse.
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader
Comments: 35
Kudos: 157





	1. False Direction

**Author's Note:**

> hiii, this is website is all new to me so bare with me. i’m an author on tumblr (@wiensrsoldier) and i’ve decided to post the first chapter to my vampire au fic here. 
> 
> keep in mind, i’m only posting the first chapter. i have one more series to finish off on tumblr and till then, i’m all yours. enjoy the first chapter to my beloved!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "cause i gotta be somewhere soon, what am i doing here? some false direction, leading me away" - false direction

It’s been a while since you’ve found redeemable supplies. One that’s not ransacked and cleared of every inch of material. The supermarket is big and brimming with stocked shelves, it had seemed that the raider forgot about this part of the town and had left quicker than they liked to think.

And while you’re grateful, seeing that this is the first place that actually had supplies and food to earn your survival for the last two weeks, you’re surprised that you were lucky enough to stumble across it.

You’ve grown to adapt to survive on your own. Your mother had taught you well. She’d always been careful and paranoid that this day would come and taught you the basics of surviving, not only on your own and in the wild, but in a world where dead corpses litter, and some, walk the streets. She hasn’t failed to mention about the living, those were the ones she claimed that you had to fear, for they will do about anything to keep their own lives.

She was right. The living were what eventually brought her death when the home that had been sheltering you and your mother were raided by a group of bandits for food. Hoping that you would find yourself safe, she made you hide under the floor, where there was a compartment the previous (living) owners had.

And while you may have been a young 18 at that time, you weren’t naive to the sound of a muffled gunshot. You knew what they did to her. You knew what happened and what would happen to her. She was right. The living were just as ruthless as the dead.

Which is why you’ve managed to avoid any interaction with groups of people because you know what they’re capable of and what you’re worth to them.

You needed to keep yourself and only yourself alive. Thankfully enough, the stacks of canned food on the shelves were able to bring that to you.

Careful to cause as little noise, you pick the cans off the shelves with no care if they’re your taste or not. This world is not simply built for any type of luxury anymore. So the beans and corn, maybe some rice, will do. Maybe you’ll find a nearby lake, catch a fish and have some for dinner.

But all the while your dainty fingers snatch the heavy metal cylinders off the emptying shelves, the sound of a soft thud catches your sole attention. Your hands stop midway just as your body follows along and freeze.

While it’s faint, it’s there and you can hear someone speak… more like mutter at best. Being near at the end of the aisle, you peak your head from the shelves, eyes catching the figure of a broad person who’s all too big and buff to look like a corpse.

With careful eyes, you analyze the way their body moves and lean over the counter, most likely searching for food and supplies just as you are.  Too bad, I got here first, you think. And while you may be right, there’s uncertainty lying beneath that you are able to fight off this man or woman if they were to attack.

Listening and watching with careful senses, the mysterious person concludes that this area is empty and moves on. He doesn’t fail to catch your lurking gaze when his head snaps up. While you, attempt to return to the safety of the tall shelves, bag filled with cans and a bag of rice clutched against your chest.

Your senses take over, telling you to exit the premises before you find yourself in the hands of a very dangerous person who has nothing but friends waiting for them to return with good.

But they’re faster and sneakier than you are and when you face down the aisle, they’re, who turns out to be a he, is there. For a moment, there’s only silence before he’s the first one to speak with a few steps towards you.

* * *

Bucky is not sure whether what he hears is a walker or not but nevertheless, he’s always cautious. Always having an extra set of ears and eyes set out for any danger.

He expected someone, he could hear the way their heartbeat through their chest, bones rattling in a way he hasn’t heard in centuries. It’s almost as if they’re nervous, worried, and scared.

He doesn’t blame them. The world they live in is a scary place even without the living corpses he had run into in the past months.

And while he’s just trying to get by as he always did, he’s been running low on food, hopefully this store has supplies. He’s partially wrong, finding nothing in most of the aisles other than expired tubs of ice cream and other goods that were once edible now turned moody and green.

Just as he were about to return and give up, find another animal he can feed on and contain his hunger, his sense takes over and his head snaps up to the colourless eyes that stare at home a couple of feet away. He sees the way a morsel of their hair flows against the air as they return behind the aisle’s safety.

Unfortunately for them, he’s intrigued and hungry. And he hears the way their heart races as he nears their presence.

But when he meets her, standing across the aisle, clutching a bag of what he assumes is the food she had found. A gold piece dangling off her chest showcasing her name, the predator in him soothes away and back to the man who had simply fought in the war for the goodness of his country and faith.

There’s nothing but silence that enters them, she’s afraid that he can tell. Even without his senses, he can catch the emotion she’s trying to suppress underneath those doe eyes. So, he’s careful with his steps when he steps towards her, as if he’s even almost afraid of breaking her himself.

“Do you have supplies?” His voice is soft, almost kind unlike the times he’s growled at passing raiders or hunters.

He waits for a moment to pass, letting her take a second to gather her fear and press it down. He can tell that she’s probably thinking of a way to escape this conundrum. Though, he doubts with the converse on her feet and the black bag clutched to her chest that she’s not going to get far.

Especially with him on her trail. Nor with the way that she looks so malnourished.

But when she doesn’t reply, he asks once again. Only this time, his voice is much more stern. “Hey, I said do you have supplies?”

“Y- yes. I do. I have rice and beans, a- and a first aid kit. That’s all.” Her voice is faint, small even and Bucky grimaces at the lowness.

“Speak up next time. I can’t hear you.” He tells her, stepping closer to finally get a better look at this girl. Bucky catches a handle of a knife stuck in the front pocket of her jeans, which is entirely in the wrong place, but he’ll give her some points for at least having a weapon.

It’s been a while since he’s had company, maybe hers won’t be bad if she helps him out. Trade sources for his own and maybe she’ll grow useful. She did find herself a first aid kit and though it may not be useful for him, it’s something he can trade with if the possibility of others comes across with him. If not, their loss and he guess he’ll have to take it with force.

“I need the food.” He states.

“I can give you half of my supplies. I haven’t eaten in days; I need the rest.”

He ponders on her request. Perhaps, if he can’t get all of her supplies might as well take her. She can share hers while he shares his, and though he’s not fond of sharing, maybe he can cooperate if it meant that he wouldn’t have to feed for a while longer.

“Grab the rest and let's go.”

The demand takes her back, which doesn’t surprise Bucky, seeing that his intentions are clueless to the girl.

“Excuse me? I don’t even know you.” He wants to chuckle at this but bites his tongue. “Look, I’ll give you—”

“It’s either you live for another few days with those supplies before the dead, or even worse, raiders find you. Or you come with me and I’ll teach you how to use that knife and how to survive in this hell hole.” He voices his offer and he catches as her face turns sour and confused. Her brain is working out the cons and pros to the offer but really, there was only one right answer and it was her choice whether she chose the right one or not.

* * *

The trek is not far, a couple miles north and then there’s a gate. Seems like a rich community, he must've been lucky or have known the area well and the humble abode was a cabin like home.

And while it looked large, there was merely one room with an open floor plan living area with the kitchen littered with newspaper. It’s nice. Definitely not homey but it doesn’t look like it’s sheltering a serial killer who wants to pass time by doing you.

There’s a couch. A fireplace. A bath. And a porch. It’s enough.


	2. Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you leapt form crumbling bridges watching cityscapes turn to dust" - apocalypse

The sun is warm, setting back down to rest so the moon can take its place to shine a darker light on the rotting earth. Much like the situation you were in, the man who's offered you shelter sits in front of you, plates in both of your faces accompanied with silverware. Actual silverware. It’s clear he’s made a home here. No doubt that he’s been here probably much longer.

You can tell it’s not his actual home. It seems too familial to be owned by one man, he doesn’t show any signs of having a partner nor kids. Maybe he did and he doesn’t talk about it.

The thought fades away as another question makes you ponder. You voice it to the brunette, “I didn’t get your name. And seeing that we’re living together—”

He cuts you off before you can even finish. “James.”

You have to bite your tongue from telling him off, you hated when your mom did that. Especially in arguments regarding the lack of supplies needed to travel and she told you off.

“Okay. I’m—”

“Y/n, I know. It’s on your necklace.”

Completely forgetting the piece of metal, your hand snaps to your neck, feeling the way the gold comes into contact with warm skin like ice. The necklace had become a part of you that you hadn’t given it a second thought.

But how could you, that necklace was given to you by none other than your mother. It’s a part of you as much as it’s a part of her.

You don’t know what to say. You have nothing to say. Empty as the neighborhood around you. It’s okay, you busy yourself with the food on your plate. And while it’s not much, not like what was once available on a simple whim to you when the world was alive and youthful, it’s enough to fill the aching in your belly. As it is with James when he downs his appetite in mere minutes.

“How long have you been staying here?” You look around the room, clearly surprised with his humble abode.

“Long enough. How about you?”

You shrug. “I haven’t really kept track of the time. But I was with my mom when this started. She’s a cop, she taught me how to survive so when the time came, when she died, I would know how to take care of myself in this world. We survived for a while, maybe a few months. Then we got attacked by raiders who took our supplies and food and killed her, she made me hide under the floor during that.”

You’ve never really told anyone that. You’re not entirely sure why you told this man that. Nevertheless, it felt good. To release. To tell. Pass on what your mom’s sacrifice meant to you.

And it meant that it was the man that sat quiet in front of you.

There’s a moment of pause. Your eyes are drawn to look back up but you keep it on the food in front of you. Spoon swirling the brown beans that reminded you what you once hated as a child now you’ve grown accustomed to.

You speak again when he doesn’t. “I… I just want to say thank you. For not killing me and all. The world is not filled with any more kind people, so thank you.” Sending him a subtle smile, you return to your meal.

The both of you entering a silence that is neither uncomfortable nor too silent.

There’s a sense of belonging. That you should’ve been with him. It doesn’t feel wrong but it doesn’t mean you’re afraid. He is a stranger. One that still has to prove to you that he isn’t what you think he is to be or going to be at the end of this.

Once James downs the food in front of him like it was his last, he removes his shoes and claims that he’ll be settling in for the night. Telling you to set up your bed on the couch as there’s only one room in the house.

You don’t complain. The bed is most likely going to make your back ache, nevertheless thankful out of your mind that you have at least a home to sleep in.

As you prepare for the night, you take the liberty to wash the plates as your host was kind enough not only to take you in and feed you as well.

The room is dark, cold even, but that’s because the window is open and the summer air gets chilly at night.

But as you lay wide awake, uncertain of the time, your thoughts run over your head.

Questions for James are made in a list. The long night letting you ponder over why he had took you in. Was it because he was lonely? In need of company? A bed warmed. You doubt that you would do it. Even with the times that loneliness creeped in and begged for another’s touch. You weren’t going to do with a man like James. Though, you’re not sure what kind of man he is. Perhaps in time you’ll find out. Hopeful, you wish you do get to understand what lies in his head.

You know what lies in yours. Why you willingly went with a man who may have darker intentions than you want to believe. You know it’s because of her. Your mother and her sacrifice. It’s the first thing that comes to your mind. Her screams and promises of a better life. On some days, you laugh at the words, cry even when days are cloudy and rain isn’t the only thing that pours down.

Even then, her memories are always happy. Always kind. Your mother had brought such joy in your life that she managed to bring them even in a world like this. It’s just one of the many things you adore about her, you suppose.

But there’s no point of lingering in the past when it’s not going to bring you anywhere near further into the future. The only good thing that has somewhat come out of her death was him, James.

Well, at least, you hope he’s good. He seems like it. With those large sunken blue eyes and dark brown hair tendrils, they paint a picture in your head.

He looks like your average bad guy. The same ones you had seen in movies. The bad guy turned good. The bad guy girls fall helplessly in love with. You shake the latter, thinking as if.

Your thoughts fade off into darkness, the same kind where your body basks in as you lay on the couch; wide awake and open with your own mind.

While your body may be at rest, your head isn’t. It occupies your conscience, let it take control as you attempt to fall asleep. But given your past and attempt of survival in the past weeks, you refuse to let you guard down; even with him around.

Maybe you won’t ever let your guard down or sleep as peacefully as you did way before hell happened. But whatever happens next, well, at least you won’t be alone.


	3. Sunflower Vol. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “wish i could get to know you” - sunflower vol. 6

She doesn’t complain. Even when Bucky drags her back to the plaza for the fifth time that week because he claims that they probably missed some supplies. She rolls her eyes, making him send her a knowing glare.

She wants to tell him off, that he’s wasting their time and they should check further out but she knows his boundaries now. After that fateful introduction between them nearly five months ago, she knows how pissy he gets when she tells him what he’s doing is frustrating. He hates that. 

She also knows how much he hates talking about scavenging outside of the area. Y/n knows why, she knows that he’s afraid to leave the home he’s made over the months alone. Afraid that he might lose the only thing he’s made himself. So she doesn’t bring them up. 

She lets him drag her back to the pharmacy, make her scout the aisles only to find nothing but a colouring book and to her surprise, two boxes of unopened tampons. Okay, maybe he was right, at least she got some supplies.

When he returns, he returns empty handed and a scowl on his face. “Don’t say it.”

She giggles, makes the scowl on his face angrier but to her it’s simply entertainment. “I won’t say it because you were right. I did find some supplies.”

His eyes fall to the items in her hands, snatching the colouring book from her small hands. He purses his lips, giving her a knowing look. “A colouring book isn’t supplies, Y/n.”

“I  _ know _ that. I meant the tampons.” She snatched the book back, turning on her heel to exit the pharmacy with Bucky on her tail; following her lead.

“Where are you going?”

“I saw a bookstore there. I wanna check it out.”

Bucky sighs, lets her have this trip once. After all, it’s all he can do after berating her this week. It’s been a while since he’s fed but given the food she had supplied when they had met, it was able to prolong his feeding and his temptation on her.

And though she’s making it incredibly difficult for his hunger and temptation, Bucky refuses to lay a finger on the girl with the wicked smile and trustful attitude. Her innocence wears him off, reminds him of what he used to be and what the world used to be before all hell broke loose. He wouldn’t dare ruin what she had left.

So he watches as she gasps in excitement. The look of thrill on her face when she sees the store is surrounded by books. All untouched and sitting in dust. It had seemed no raiders were not interested in knowledge and it makes Y/n slightly sad at the fact that books were once a form of entertainment and lessons were not considered not a necessity.

“Hurry up. We haven’t got all day.”

She sends him a look, ignoring his snarky comment to return to her browsing in the classics aisle. She finds a few she’s read in school, the same Shakespeare classics, a few of those modern books she was forced to read, but instead of going for some boring literature, she goes for the fiction novels. Book upon book in her arms, she fails to carry most of them and resort to Bucky.

“Are you just going to stand there and look pretty?” She raises a brow at the brunette, earning herself a roll of his eyes as he carries half of the books she barely could carry. “Thank you. Now, we can go.”

* * *

He’s making himself busy. Cleaning the cupboards and stocking them with the food, more so, lack of. The rice, beans, and the very little vegetables sit still, waiting to be used for later when he prepares them dinner for tonight.

When he finishes and becomes wary of her presence, a wash of worry washes over him and he finds himself striding over to the front porch. She’s sitting comfortably, feet tucked underneath her body while her face is buried in her book. 

“What’s it about? The book?”

His voice has her head peeking up, a soft look of entrancement in her wide eyes.

“How a princess attempts to return back home to her father’s kingdom. She’s guided by a fae. Pan. It’s a beautiful story, really.” She beams with curiosity in her eyes, beautiful and doe eyes and Bucky smiles at her. “Is lunch ready? Our trip made me a little famished.”

With a kind nod, he leads the way back inside their shared home. She hops on the seat, waiting and looking at him patiently as he pries open the cans. “Hey, James?” He hums in response, not turning to face her but she knows he’s listening. “What are you building outside? I saw the wood. And well, since you were looking for some tools.”

He returns in front of her with a plate filled with rice and vegetables. The rations are small but she understands why. They haven’t found food in any of the stores but fortunately, Bucky knew how to hunt. Found them some rabbit meat. She didn’t question how he knew, she was just simply thankful.

His glove hand hands her the plate, greeting him with a thank you before she dug in her food. “I’m building us a greenhouse. Help with the vegetation for the plants. Maybe we could plant some seeds, make a little farm.”

“That’s cool. And more convenient for us so we don’t have to venture out too far in the woods.” He nods.

“Yeah but I may have to go out again tonight. We’re running low on our supplies and we’ve already gone out today. Might just have to feed on some rabbit meat again.” 

Y/n pauses and peers up, a look of concern on her face as she learns that he’s leaving. She doesn’t have a problem with him hunting for that sake, it's when he’s leaving; in the night, where it’s dark and dangerous where anything might and could happen.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to the concern painted on the girl’s face and he’s quick to reassure her that he’ll be fine. “I won’t be long. But don’t wait up for me.” A pout presents itself on her face, she attempts to ignore her worry by downing her lunch but the time she’s done, Bucky’s returned to his room doing god knows what.

* * *

She ends up staying wide awake on the couch, attempting to finish her book but fails as she can’t keep her focus situated on the words for more than a few sentences. 

The bugs are loud tonight. Crickets sing loud and rhythmically with each other as nightfall takes and washes over the house. The fire crackles loudly in front of her and she counts how many times she’s seen the fire inflate. He shouldn’t be taking this long, she thinks and begins to chew on her cherry red painted nails thanks to the nail polish she found a week ago.

She also knew if Bucky were to walk in any moment, she would’ve been scolded as he told her weeks ago that biting her nail was a disgusting habit. She doesn’t care, she pushes that thought back as she begins to worry again on why he’s taken more than he said he would.

However, her thoughts are answered when the doorknob rattles and twists and swings open, revealing the man she’s been impatiently waiting for the whole night. He wears his black sweatshirt, pairing it with his jeans and boots. He’s covered in dirt, some on his knees and his chest but the blood on his neck catches her eyes.

She prompts to her feet, stomping her way to him. “You said you wouldn’t be out for long.” Her voice is near a loud yell, she keeps her composure and anger in. Her eyes stare down at the faint splashes of blood on his pale skin. “And god, you’re dirty.” She licks her thumb, bringing her fingers to his neck and carefully wiping the red substance off with ease. So, it’s fresh. Not too long ago.

“Was hard to see. ‘M sorry.” He lied. He could see perfectly in the dark. Saw every bit of hair and leaves that was on the ground as he snapped that wild hare’s neck dead and sucked it dry. But she didn’t need to know that. “Why’re you up? I told you not to wait up for me.”

“You should clean up. I can store the meat away.” She purposely averts the question, reaches towards the hanging rabbit from his hand with a shiver. “We still have some of the soap you made. Use that and clean up.” She meekly smiles before turning on her heel and stomping her way towards the kitchen.

As he follows what she asks, and rubs the wet cloth against his pale and cold skin, he finds the traces of blood on his neck. He stares coldly at himself in the mirror, a longing sigh leaving his lips as he realizes what he truly is. Even from this room, he can hear her, breath hard and heavy as the sound of the butcher's knife sliced against the rabbit meat. He hears how she hums a tune to herself, pausing with a hiss and the scent of her fills his nose.

He marches over to the kitchen and sees that in fact that she sliced her finger with the knife. A sheepish grin on her face as she holds her finger in the red stained white cloth. With a sigh, Bucky takes her to the bathroom. “You said you’d store the meat not cut it up.”

He pushes back the thought of how deliciously sweet she would taste on his tongue with one lick. Instead, he focuses on cleaning her finger with soap and water and she hisses in contact with the cloth. 

“I did. But you’d have more work to do tomorrow.”

He turns to her with a look.

“That’s not for you to worry about, Y/n.”

She shrugs, ashamed and embarrassed for being scolded. It’s in her nature, she likes helping, keeps her mind off the reality that they’re all alone in this together. Keeps her distracted. And it worked, at least for the last five months she’s spent with him. It’s easier that way rather than to think about it.

“It’s better than not doing anything. Helps me cope with this. This stupid reality we live in.” He watches with a careful eye as she bites her lip, head down in shame. She lets out a small sniffle, her free hand coming to rub away the fallen tears. “It’s stupid really. Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without your help.”

“It’s alright. Just don’t do it again. We only have each other. We can’t risk it.” Bucky doesn’t know what he entirely meant by that, and while it was true, he didn’t need to rely on her. He’s lived centuries without anyone, however, he would prefer her over anyone else if he was given the option. “Alright. You’re clean. Just keep the bandage over the wound until we need to clean again.”

She peers up at him, the height difference evident and a smile blossoms on her sunken face. “Thank you, James. For everything in the past five months.”

He nods, a small smile present on his face as she steps out of the bathroom. As he finishes up getting ready for bed, changed in a new pair of clothes that isn’t stain with blood or dirt, he makes his way for he living room. The fire still crackles loud while Y/n lays comfortably on the couch, hugging her knees. He blows out the candles, the only light that illuminates her face is the fire.

Another day, he suppose. For now, he’ll live with the idea that everything is fine, just the way it always has been.

  
  
  
  



	4. Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “but i can feel it take a hold, i can feel you take control, of who i am, and all i’ve ever known” — golden

Y/n doesn’t expect to do much today. Maybe help around the house, do some chores but given with the status of her finger, there’s not much she can do.

So, instead, she decides to fix herself and Bucky breakfast. There’s left over vegetables from yesterday’s lunch, she fixes him and herself a plate. When she finishes, she heads to the porch, hovers quietly as she watches Bucky work.

He’s shirtless, a sight she hasn’t seen before on him and she’s startled by the sight of the metal arm connected to his left arm. She swallows hard, the sound enough to alert Bucky, though he heard her step outside second before. He turns around, bare body glistening with slick sweat and she certainly feels her body heat up at the sight.

“Morning.” He greets her with a smile, snapping her out of her reverie.

She returns the gesture so politely, ignoring the sinful ideas in her head as she offers him breakfast which he gladly takes. However, her curiosity gets the best of her when it’s the metal arm that reaches for the plate. 

“What happened?” Bucky knows what she’s asking and while he admires her curiosity, it’s not an event he’d want to get into further details. Which is why he answers her with a simple response that sends the message he hopes she gets.

“Accident.”

“Okay.”

Then he’s joining her by the swing, wiping the sweat off his brows before he starts downing his breakfast. Y/n watches him from the side of her eyes, tender fingers barely touching her food. With her careful gaze on him, she easily spots the tattoo of the infamous octopus on his neck. It’s red and it’s angry as the HYDRA brand pops with colour against Bucky’s pale skin.

Her shatters against her chest, limbs frozen in place as she realizes who she’s been spending five months of her new life with. The very same man who she’s heard and discussed about in history classes. The very same man who has a whole page dedicated to him in the textbooks. James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier.

He sits right beside her with the normality that he wasn’t one of those creatures. That he was normal. That he wasn’t what the text book said he was. But even with that; he never laid a finger on her. Even in the midst of this goddamn apocalypse where it’s everyone for themselves, he took her in.

So, maybe, just maybe, he isn’t what she thinks he is. He isn’t what her mother warns her about late at night. The last five months showed that and clearly, he doesn’t plan on hurting her, right? 

He snaps her out of her thoughts when he turns to her with a question on his tongue. “How’s your finger?” He asked, eyes staring down at her lap where her fingers laid still. 

“Oh. It’s okay. Doesn’t hurt as much.”

He hums at her response, settling down his plate beside her. 

“Are you alright? You seem on edge.”

Y/n swallows down her fear, attempts to pry her eyes away from his beautiful baby blues but fails as she seems too entranced to notice. Bucky notices how her heart rate picks up, worrying him that she’s gotten sick due to an infection from the cut. But she doesn’t seem to display any of the symptoms, she seemed fine. She just looked like she was in… shock. 

“Yeah. I’m alright.” She says, attempting to fake her smile. He can see past it, the way she looks at him like she’s scared of him. It’s the same look she gave him when he caught her in that damned grocery store, all sickly and thin. She’s much healthier now, at least, much more meat hanging off her bones and face but it’s that same look that resembles the same one five months ago. “Do you want coffee? I can brew you one.”

He doesn’t get in a response before she gets up from the swing and heads inside with her food, feet rushing against the creaking wood floors. He can hear the way her breathing heightens, her sniffles from the bathroom and he frowns at what he must’ve done to cause her such unhappiness. Maybe it was yesterday? The way he scolded her? He swore that he didn’t raise his voice. He never does, not with her. 

So, it’s truly a wonder what made her act in such a way. That, perhaps, it’s a question he’ll ask when he sees her later on the day. For now, he has to work with chopping the wood for the winter. It’s getting colder now and they’re going to spend most of their time inside.

* * *

They eat in silence. Which is not unusual but it is uncomfortable as she’s the only sound he’s truly able to hear for miles. And while he’s not complaining, tonight, he can’t hear the sound of her soft beating heart and sighs of content.

The rabbit tastes funny on his tongue, tastes bland, dried or old, though he expects that to be only him as he’s the same person who drained it dry. Perhaps, to her, it tastes as what you would expect from meat. He’s no five star chef but it’ll do. And while he’s stuck in his thoughts, Y/n watches as his sickly pale fingers tap against the marbled counter.

It rings loudly in her ears, fingernails and metal rings against marble and it’s so simple yet so enchanting. She knows what he is, she bites her tongue, hard but the words fall out quicker than she’s expected.

His head snaps to her direction, tuft of hair tied behind him in a small bun. “ _What?_ ”

She stares back at him the same way he's staring at her. Wide eyes while mouth parted in shock. All motions cease and the bugs begin to sing their melody outside. He shakes their songs from his ear and focuses his attention on her. “I’m sorry. Don’t—”

“How did you?”

“Your tattoo. When you, you know, this morning. I’ve seen it before in my history textbooks. We talked about you in our class.”

_**Fucking hell**_. He curses internally at himself for being so careless. He should’ve remembered that he had that. How could he forget? He remembers the day they branded him with it. He felt nothing but pain for days, even for weeks if he was lucky enough to even remember the days. Yet, somehow, he didn’t remember it the moment she stepped outside that porch. Just the idea of her standing there meekly in her shorts and t-shirt with their breakfast, her face all puffy but a smile presents itself there as she greeted him back a good morning.

“So, you know what I’ve done. What I’m capable of.”

He hears her breath hitch, fingers trembling with anxiety as she starts fumbling over her words.

“Of course, I do. But… It's a different world we’re living in now. If you had wanted me gone, you would’ve done it the day you met me.” She seems nervous, almost unsure of what she’s saying. “I hope you know I’m not stupid. I know what you are and how there's people like you. My mom taught me better. I just never thought I’d be spending my time with the one person they tell us to be scared of in school.”

There’s a pregnant pause between them. Y/n attempts to avoid it by returning to eating her food. As for Bucky, he's frozen. Unsure what to do as no one has ever found out his identity before until now. Until his stupid mistake. 

Y/n pauses, peers up through her lashes. “I don’t want to pry but if you’re hungry, you can have mine.” 

He shakes his head, pushes back her plate. “I don’t need to eat human food. Only helps with hunger for a little while before I actually need to feed.” She hums in response, feeling a little embarrassed that she didn’t think of that.

It was painfully obvious to anyone, of course. Though, she didn’t think of that as she was too busy eating dinner with an actual vampire. The very same ones that she’s read in fictional story books. Movies. Twilight. 

“And how long does it take before you need to properly feed?” She asks with pure curiosity, eyes shining under the candle lights as she peers up at him from her seat.

“At most, two weeks. Animal blood helps but it’s not as good as actual human blood.” His voice is merely a whisper at the end, like he’s afraid of the reality of his own being. “Why don’t you tuck in early. It’s a lot to take in. I know. I don’t blame you.”

She nods with a smile, thankful that he lets her go. And as he puts away the leftovers, she begins to prepare for bed.

They sleep alone as ever, it’s quiet and lonely. Her mind is away throughout the night, the first in the last five months.


	5. Haunt Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ follow the path you were destined to have” - haunt me (x 3)

He sat with a close proximity, his cold fingers holding her warm ones as he uses a hot cloth to clean the cut on her skin. The flesh is healing, it’s still fresh bur this way, it’s better than before. 

The air between them is quiet and cold, it has been like that for weeks ever since she’s found about him. She’s still as ever her usual self, though he knows she’s curious and has questions that she’s most likely too shy to answer.

She watches him as he dabs small drops of honey on her finger, she knows what it’s for. He told her his Ma used to do it all the time whenever he cut himself. The honey acts as an antibacterial agent and keeps the infections at bay. She just follows along, he knows better than her. 

“What are we doing today?” She asks, curious as to what the day has planned for them.

“I was thinking of bringing you with me to hunt. The full moon is in three days and I need to stock up before or the hunger will get our control.” She purses her lip in thought. She was planning on starting the new book today. Maybe reread the old one as she enjoyed it as much. Those plans are pushed back for later tonight or perhaps tomorrow as she gets to go on a small little trip with Bucky today. 

However, she wonders how long he has been keeping up with the date. She knows she hasn’t and shamelessly admits that she still believes it’s June. Though, with the way the weather has been windy and chilly, she knows she’s way far off. So, she asks. Out of pure wonder.

“What’s the date?”

“September 21.”

She smiles, it’s small but it’s present and Bucky catches the beautiful sight in front of him. There’s a sparkle in her eye that's exclusive to her and her only. 

“My birthday is after the full moon. I’m turning twenty.” She says it with pure pride.

He returns the smile, adoring the way her face lights up at such an important occasion in her life. The big twenty. When he was twenty, he had been drafted to the war. Been put into use. By twenty-one, he was a killing machine for HYDRA and had killed hundreds of innocents. Right now, she’s twenty. Barely even need to finish university if she were in school right now. 

“Well then, we must think of something to do. Anything you want.”

She looks up at the ceiling, drowning the feeling of his fingers on hers and thinks of what they could possibly do.  _ Anything _ . Just as he said.

“I...don’t know what I want.” She admits, sadly and softly as she keeps her eyes up. Bucky watches through heavy lids at the way her smile turns into a confusing frown. “I always spent my birthday with friends. Family. I don’t have any of that now.”

Then he’s wrapping the bandage over her finger again. Slipping a finger into the honey and putting into his mouth. Sweet and pungent. It sits on his tongue before he pulls his finger out with a pop. A tap on her palm. 

“I can be a friend. Try to make the best of the event with you.” He sends her the offer and it has her staring at him with awe written on her face. “Your finger is done.”

“You’ve always been a friend.” 

* * *

The leaves crunch under their shoes with every step further into the woods. Y/n watches Bucky in front of her, guiding her with him to look for his next meal. Back flexing with every move of his arm when he reaches out to stop her. 

He nods his head over his right, catches a small fawn, barely walking; just standing in hindsight. Baby ears up and about listening with care. He doesn’t see Bucky nor her and he’s thankful for that matter. 

He turns to Y/n. “Close your eyes for me.” He watches as her eyes flutter close without any doubts or hesitation. She just follows and covers her eyes with her hands. 

“Please, don’t stray too far.” 

He moves the stray hair away from her hair. Grins and then speeds off. She’s left to her own devices, standing idly in the middle of the forest as her companion hunts the fawn they’re eating for dinner. 

“James?”

“Hello?”

“Can I open my eyes?”

No response and she sighs, waiting for his presence to return. When he had said they would be hunting, this wasn’t what she had in mind. And while she was definitely going to be cleaner than him, she wanted in the action. But she knows better than to move. So, she waits patiently. 

“You can open your eyes.” His deep voice enters her ears and she sighs, hands dropping to her side as her eyes flutter open.

A slight gasp falls from her mouth as she takes in his form. He’s not as dirty as she thought he would’ve been. There’s still drops and hints of blood on his neck, that she can see. Sprinkles shower him like a canvas, a beautiful artwork made with a malicious intent. She wishes in times like these, she’s able to snap a picture of a beautiful thing in front of her. She can’t.

She must find another way to remember how the Winter Soldier stands in front of her like a poet. A fawn limp as he holds the animal by its feet. It’s dead body hung over his shoulders. “We’re going to be full this week.” She grins at him gingerly.

“Of course. For your birthday.”

He leads them back out and into their home. She sits on the swing cross legged, peering down at Bucky who sits a level down beside the fawn with a knife clutched between metal hands. 

He begins the lesson. Tells her where it’s the easiest to cut and the hardest. Where the meat is most delicious and where it isn’t. She learns quickly. Learns that you must never simply just cut. She learns how to hold the knife, his hand over her own as he guides her to pierce the skin. Guides her how to skin the animal. Somewhere in the lesson, he promises her a small hat from the fur.

She’s patient with him. And so as he when she hisses because of her finger. That’s when he tells her to sit back down, tells her to just watch him instead.

And when he’s done, finishes cleaning up the meat, the mess, she follows him inside to help wash out the blood stains. 

Though, she’s simply reminded of what he is when he licks the blood off his fingers. She sucks in a breath, pushing that thought back as she wets a cloth and tells him to wait in the bathroom.

“You don’t have to do it for me.” He tells her as she plainly ignores him. Stands between him as he sits on the closed toilet seat, the white cloth stained pink as she begins to rub it against his red stained skin. It comes off easily, luckily, unlike before where it dries brown and she sweat herself scrubbing his clothes.

“I think I know what I want to do.” He hums for her to continue, his hand reaching out to touch the gold chain of her name that hangs off her neck. She doesn’t mind, she likes his touch, finds odd comfort in it. “I want to visit the bookstore.” 

He thinks for a moment, smiles for himself. He finds it entertaining that somehow she finds ways to entertain herself. Bucky has never been really a book person. Not his strong suit, however, the titles she’s been reading has him intrigued. A small trip won’t hurt. 

“We can do that.” She smiles at this, in return, making him as well. It’s always a sight to see anyways; the way her lips curve into a knowing grin when she knows something is funny or went her way. The hint of mischief is evident in them. Makes him wonder if it’s her beauty or the latter that has him gazing at her. “Are you done?”

“Yeah.”

She steps away from him, he’s cleaner now and he’s better to look at. He always is, if she’s being honest. She leaves him soon, leaves to start her book while he cleans his shirt on his own just as he promised last time. She believes him, though, she checks when he’s napping. His sweater lays flat, heavy, and wet with water. Just as he promised.


	6. Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you hate this place, i hate it too  
> but we didn't have that much to do”  
> \- willow

It’s just as he said; the moon rises with pride in the sky as it shines over a beautiful casting glow over the house. She sits on the porch, his sweater over her frame under the cold chilly air. She knows she should be settling inside, get ready for bed and throw wood in the fire. Though, she can’t help but admire the way the full moon is big tonight.

“It’s late.” He enters the porch, arms crossed as he watches her turn to face him. She doesn’t let a word out, just simply gets up from the swing and follows his lead back inside the house. He locks the door behind him, shuts the window panels; enough for the moon to creep in.

He finds her sitting by the fire. His sweatshirt is big and heavy on her frame as her knees are pushed against her chest. The fire crackles loudly, big, and warm against hers and his skin. It’s comforting, inviting, and she lets a breathy sigh. He’s jealous of the way she looks, so comfortable and so at ease that he wished that he could gain some of that comfort.

So, he joins her. Sits a feet feet from her figure. It makes her smile when she turns to face him. “How are you feeling?” Sometimes he forgets that she knows and hides away, only for her to be there and reassure him. He can see it in her eyes, the hint of concern and genuine. It’s kind just like her.

“I’m… well, me. How about you? You don’t have to stay up with me, you know.”

Her body rumbles with a chuckle, moves herself closer to him so she can talk. 

“I know. But it’s much more fun than sleeping. It’s like our own little sleep over.” She greets him with a toothy grin, tucking her chin in her palm. But then it all goes south. Her grin drops and Bucky hears the way her heart rate slows. She’s sad. He hears it loud and clear. Guilt showers him. “Reminds me a lot of back home. All the girls loved sleepovers. So, did I. Always had one with my best friend before she moved away for college.”

She closes her eyes against the tears, drops her head in embarrassment against his shoulder. “I miss a lot of people. I don’t know how you did this for centuries.”

“It gets easier. Promise.”

She pauses, thinks what he means by that truly. She really does wish it gets easier. Five months were already hard enough. A lifetime would end her. She has him on the other hand. Even if they were to last an entire lifetime, she’d be gone before him. She’d be buried deep down in the dirt before him.

“Does it? I want to believe that it does but sometimes I think of how I’m alive and my mother isn’t. I thought the same thing when my dad got sick and died. That it would get easier over time and it did, sometimes, but there was still that lingering shadow over me that it shouldn’t have been him.”

Bucky doesn’t interrupt her. Doesn’t dare to, given with her vulnerability. He doesn’t want to guilt her for sharing her emotions, her feelings on all of this shit. It’s the first time she’s been truly open with him. Bits and pieces here and there over the course of the five months but never like this. He thanks her internally and personally.

“But sometimes, I like to think of it as a blessing in disguise, you know.” She chuckles at this, sniffling as hands rub against her wet cheeks. “It seems fucked up, I know. But it’s better than him dying in a hospital bed rather than by a gang of raiders because they wanted more food and supplies.”

There’s a pregnant pause between them, it’s not uncomfortable or anything, it’s actually soothing. To feel relieved of her pent up emotions. To actually speak to someone about what she’s been feeling. Even when she was with her mother, she didn’t have it in her to burden her with all the nonsense.

“It’s not, I hope you know that.” Bucky doesn’t bat an eye or turn to face her but she knows. “It was the same for me. I lived through a war. Died and came back to be this monster that I’m still trying to accept. Believe me when I say, it would’ve been better if I stayed dead if I knew life would end up like this.”

Y/n doesn’t know if there’s an implication in his words, if he meant what he truly said about living life like this. With her. Would’ve it been so bad to live with her? She’s not going to lie to him and say that she preferred this life over the normal one. She misses her mom. The small things. But if she were to have it any other way, she would choose him; always. He’s the only person she has. Only person she trusts.

“I’m sorry for what they did to you.” Her cries are louder now, she doesn’t care to stop them. Neither does he and lets her. “You didn’t deserve any of that. They used you.”

He sighs, lays back, keeping her head still against him. Soon, he feels her calm down, heart swelling down to a normal rate and her breathing evens out. She’s passed out, clutching on his arm like a small child afraid. He keeps her there, lays with her until he himself falls deep asleep.

* * *

She follows him deep down the road, the straps of her bag clutched between dainty fingers. Their breaths are hot against the chilly air, winter is near and soon trips like these must be shortened.

It’s later in the afternoon, though it feels like the morning as she knuckles against heavy eyes. It’s her fault really, told him she wanted to go back to the bookstore for more books and here they were. 

She wears his sweatshirt again. It’s better than her own. Softer, comfier, and smells like him. She likes it like that but she’ll never admit it. And as they arrive back at the plaza, a smile blossoms on her face when Bucky turns to her for reassurance; a soft grin plastered like he was excited for her to open her gift.

The bookstore is the same as they left it. The shelves remain still, empty spaces where she took pieces for herself for entertainment. She picks from a new section. Fiction novels. Romance. Takes a classic by Jane Austen; Pride and Prejudice.

She takes her time, pulls out every book that intrigues her and asks for Bucky’s opinions. Her patience with her, always has been but more this time. Just as she was with her first full month with him. 

When she finishes, she expects him to lead the way back home. He doesn’t and leads them the other way. “Found it last week. Might have some extra clothes if we check.” She smiles at what he’s implying, nods and follows him inside.

It’s empty, not a surprise but they look through everything anyways. They find the lost and found box, she rummages through it, sees boots, useful for the winter, baby clothes, then a few floral patterned dresses. She moves it to her pile, he continues searching around. Returns with a grin on her face and she irks a brow at him.

“Did you find something?”

“For you, yes.”

He pulls out a box of tampons, almost admits that he does feel a little weird being excited himself for such things for a woman. It’s a different time back then, he must blame that. It’s different now, so there’s no shame. 

She gasps, reaching out for the box, even more so when she realizes these are new. Brand spanking new. No one has touched these except for her. 

“Did you find some clothes?” 

She nods, moves away from his view and nods her head at the clothes on the floor. Grinning ear to ear, she tells him about the new finds. 

“I can’t wait to try these on when we get home.”

She truly can’t. It’s been awhile since she’s dressed so feminine. Her wardrobe consisted of about two sweaters, eight shirts, five pants, one of them pyjama shorts, and sometimes Bucky’s clothes. She wears his more often than she likes to admit, it’s comfier, bigger and smells like him. She likes the latter. She’s grown to it. The familiar scent of sweet cinnamon vanilla in her nose and clothes. 

  
  
  


She twirls around, mirror in front of her in the bathroom to check for any scratches on the silk fabric. She likes this one better than the other floral dresses. This makes her feel beautiful, sensual in every way she has never been.

In the living room, awaits Bucky. Her books in his hands, reading the fine print on the spine. His focus is broken when her padded steps enter the room, gazing up with curiosity, he almost chokes on his own spit by the sight of her.

“This is my favourite out of all the three.”  _ Mine too _ , he thinks. It flows beautifully down her body, wraps around every curve and bump she has like she was wearing a cascading waterfall. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful, every sense of way he never had thought of. “What do you think?” She twirls on the spot, the silk fabric of the dress flows with every movement.

He gazes up at her, eyes heavy with admiration and wonder at her figure. It’s truly a sight to see, one that he’s definitely going to capture forever. “It’s pretty.” No hesitation. He wants her to know how truly captivating she is.

She beams with a smile. Looks down at her form and her bare feet, toes wiggling with excitement. “Thank you.”

Bucky realizes himself that he’s staring too long for comfort. He jolts back to reality and jumps out of his chair. “Stay here. I have something to show you.” He returns with his arm behind his back, hiding something with a grin on his face that piques Y/n’s interest in this. “I was thinking we could wait if that’s what you want.”

He reveals the bottle of rum in one hand, wine in the flesh one and she gapes at this. Silent but surprised at the alcohol present in his hands. She steps forward, beaming with a smile, porcelain teeth and all. “Where did you find this?” Hands reaching for the large bottle with curiosity. She’s never had proper alcohol, maybe the slightest bit when she would take a sip from her mother’s cup, never again as she claimed it tasted like dirt.

“In the manager’s room. Found it hidden under his desk.” He won’t tell her about the weed he also found. Thinks that the alcohol is already too much for her. Some other day, he suppose, some other occasion that the drug might come in handy. “Was thinking we could share a drink or two on your special day.” His lips curve up, so beautifully so that Y/n reciprocates it as well.

“I’d love that.” She reaches forward for the bottle of rum, he ends up slapping her hand away with a grin. “Hey!” She pouts at him, much like a child.

“For tomorrow.”

She sighs, steps back, putting back some distance between them and she plops down on the red velvet couch. Her dress riding up ever so slightly, showcasing her bare legs that Bucky barely has his eyes averting away. They’re crossed, so as her arms as she grins up at him. “I’ve never dreaded my birthday to come this much since the fourth grade.”

Bucky sets down the alcohol, pushes her away so he finds a seat beside her. They converse in conversation, she tells him about what she has before the virus started. What her life was like. She tells him she had pink hair once, makes him chuckle as if he didn’t believe it. Of course he did, he can envision it in his mind. Those beautiful pink locks on her head, makes her pop out. 

They end up falling asleep. Her on his lap, her silk nightgown bunching up against her waist. Their breaths soft and even as night falls, the moon starts again with her shining friends. Fire crackles, lights their sleeping bodies with pleasure and pride. The night is calm, it’s peaceful. Together, it is.

  
  
  
  



	7. Like Real People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i knew that look, dear: eyes always seeking  
> was there in someone that dug long ago  
> so i will not ask you why you were creeping  
> in some sad way, i already know” — like real people do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys are catching up with the chapter titles, they’re mostly songs and they’re the ones that i feel like embodies the chapter (also because they’re the songs i was listening to) 
> 
> anyways, i’ve been writing a lot for this series so i hope you guys are enjoying it just as much as i enjoy writing this.

They spend the night on the ground, the wool carotene underneath them soft to the touch. Y/n lays against the couch, knees pressed to her chest while her hands hold the neck of the wine bottle. A chuckle falls softly from her mouth, she’s become bubbly, drunk or perhaps tipsy from the alcohol she shares with Bucky.

They’ve spent the night talking. Taking sips until the red liquid was all they could taste on their tongue. Sometimes all they did was sit, bask in the promising silence of their intoxication. 

Bucky thinks how lucky he is that he’s still able to get drunk. It’s harder than back then when he was human, he’s still grateful he has the option to forget about everything. To forget about Sam, Steve. 

It’s been two years since he’s left them. On most days they enter his mind, makes him wonder if they’re still out there surviving just as he is. Or if they managed to surpass life and find peace in death. 

She snaps him out of his reverie when she nudges him with her feet. Giggles like a little girl, realizes it and hates how childish she sounds. She can’t be during a time like this and she won’t let herself. “What’re you thinking of?” 

He turns to her, face flushed with red wine. “You.” He admits it for the first time, he only does because he knows she won’t remember this in the morning. He can compel her to forget but the alcohol will do that for him. 

Her face glows at the confession, body shuffles closer to him. She hums to herself before taking a large sip of the wine, big enough that it spills and drips from the corner of her mouth with no care. 

He’s thankful she won’t remember anything, which is why he takes the risk of moving close. Flesh thumb warm against her red stained lips and rubs away the alcohol, sending the silence back in the air between them. 

He hears the ghastly gasp from her, it’s small, miniature but it’s there and it fans against his finger.

She’s the first one to break the ice. Saying, “what does it feel like?” He hums, wonders what she means by that. “The bite.” He makes a face of realization, pursues his lips in question while he swung an arm behind her.

“Well...it can be pleasurable. It can hurt. But that only lasts for a little bit if I’m feeding on you. I prefer to make you the former, of course.” 

Y/n ducks her head down, flushed from either his comment or the wine, she’s not entirely sure if she’s being honest. Admittedly, she knows it’s most likely his comment but she’ll excuse it as the wine, for now.

“Why don’t you feed on me?” She asks with pure wonder, peers up at him like she was brought into this world for the first time. In a way, she was. He had lived through wars, eras of time, this apocalypse was just another chapter in his forever story. He lets out a chuckle, his hand coming up to her cheek to caress the flushed skin there.

“You would probably taste just as bitter like the wine you’re drinking, honey.” His heart stops at the pet name that fell so desperately smooth from his tongue. It was unwarranted, unexpected but it felt so right the moment he heard it. She seemed to miss it as she chugged another sip of the wine. “And that’s enough for you.”

See, he knew that it would’ve been too much for her. Given with the weed, he was right. She’s drinking to forget, he doesn’t blame her though. Times like these, he was mostly an alcoholic back then. She’s the only reason why he hasn’t taken chugs of the rum. 

And as she pouts at him, eyes heavy and intoxicated, her head falls back to lean against his arm. “I think I would taste amazing.” She ends up passing out, a mumble of sentences sitting on her lips unfinished.

And while she lays limp on him, he takes this opportunity to set down the nearly empty wine bottle on the floor to take her back to his bed.

It’s hot, a contradiction from the chill weather outside. She blames it on his sweater, the fleece leggings she wears and the thick quilt on his bed. Pushes at the large hands on her thighs away, begs with mumbles and groans for him to remove the sweater that’s two sizes big on her. He leaves her there, sighs, and lays down beside her just as she does with nothing but her leggings. 

  
  
  
  
  


Sweat settles between her brows, threatens to fall while she’s bent over the tub with a scrub in her hands. The blood is harder to come off this time, she blames the deer, not Bucky because she knows how large the animal is. Even if he is his own creature with fangs.

Weeks had gone by since her birthday. A beautiful occasion where she spent the night with a bottle between her mouth and on top of Bucky’s bed. It was all fun and games until she had barely even remembered what happened that night. She doesn’t think anything malicious, of course not, just thinks of confusion and curiosity.

She joins him later when he’s outside, still chopping wood just as he did months ago during the beginning stages of their greenhouse. It’s nearly finished now. 

After trips into the town in search for supplies, they’ve finalized the project. She’s helped a couple of times, smacked a nail into a plank once or twice, attempted to hold up some columns but failed miserably as the scab on her knee became a reminder.

He greets her when she enters the porch. She notices how much he’s aged in such short weeks. The short but prominent beard on his face catches her attention, has her skipping towards him with pure wonder. He wears something simpler, black shirt and jeans. 

Though, one less accessory on his hands as he had chosen to forgo the leather glove to hide his identity. 

He has no shame now. He’s open to her like she had been to him on many countless nights where sadness won instead of sleep. 

He’s been kinder, accepting as he’s experienced this more than anyone should have in a lifetime where she...she was full of life, happiness, love. A lifetime filled with empty promises that he wished to fulfil if she gave him the chance; he doubts it, however the idea is a beautiful picture he liked to paint in his head. 

“We need to do something about that beard.” She jokes, her grin reaches her ear with a soft laugh. “Coffee?” It’s the last brew they have, she offers him anyways because she knows he prefers staying up energized.

He takes a sip of the brown brew, face comforts in displeasure yet still swallows the liquid down as if it were bad scotch. “I know, it’s bad. It’s the last one we have though.”

“Reminder to look for more coffee on our next trip.”

“And a razor.”

She grins at him almost letting out a giggle that she reminds herself to suppress; thankfully. To Bucky, it makes him irk a brow. Their relationship had been more complicated than before. They had been closed off, barely knew each other. Now, they shared the same bottle of liquor, occasionally the same bed if there were space. She’s his companion, nothing more. 

“Have you figured what you want to do today?” 

She pursues her lips, crosses her arms in thought. The wind chills through the fabric of her dress; should’ve worn the jeans instead, she thinks. Sends a shiver down her spine that she ignores to answer his question.

“The lake. I want to check out the houses.” Her eyes glimmered under the afternoon sun, beautiful eyes shining with eagerness, innocence swirling beneath those pupils just as his did before. In all honesty, he could get lost in them, swim, drown perhaps, and he wouldn’t let a single complaint leave his lips. “We haven’t gone that far yet.”

And she knew why for a reason. It wasn’t that he was afraid, she knows that he’s gone head to head with people far stronger and bigger than him. She’s read it, knows the facts by heart. But it’s because he was afraid of leaving this very home he's built, the only thing he's had left. The longest place he's stayed without being forced to leave.

“We will. Tomorrow.” He nods towards the pile of wood. “C’mon, help me with these last few bits.”

  
  
  
  
  


They find a house near the lake, it’s big and extravagant, with beautiful large windows in the front. Y/n gazes out, sees the way the lake shines under the western sun. While Bucky searches the house as if he weren’t convinced that the virus took everyone out. He deems that it does upon finding no one in the home.

“Do you think they were a family?” She asks, fingers rummaging through the piles of paper left on the kitchen counter. Nothing useful but a note and one newspaper dating back two years ago, when the virus had started to evolve.

The note is nothing but soft poems, acclamations of love to someone named John Baker. Must’ve been the wife who wrote this, she thinks and tosses the note into her pocket.  _ For safekeeping, maybe a reminder when she gets lonely _ . 

The place had been left in a hurry. Heeled slippers are scattered by the front door, she smiles as she hops towards it; slips it on with ease and turns to Bucky with a childish grin. “Hello, sir.” She curtsies to him, her grin reaching widely to her ear while she steps towards him.

Her hand outstretches towards him, he irks a brow as he sits on the loveseat. She can tell this was a personal paradise for John Baker and his wife, the plush velvet loveseat stretches around the room, a large coffee table in the middle while the fireplace in front of them is still unused. 

He plays along, takes her fingers and intertwines his with hers. “M’lady.” Gently, he brings her hand towards his lips and kisses her skin gently. Y/n feels the way his mouth curves against her hands and it has her cheeks flushed.

She likes it this way, if she’s being honest. She knows that somewhere deep inside of him, he likes it as well. The laughter, the jokes, it brings some sense of normalcy between them. Like they were friends fooling around in a lover’s paradise. Her heart flutters at the sight, that grin on his lovely face. 

Even if there were outgrown hairs on his face. 

“Do you think John and his wife have clothes?”

“Why don’t we go and find out.”

She slips out of the slippers, wiggling her toes to feel the lush carpet under her feet. Bucky leads them up the stairs, multiple flights before they find the bedroom. Her hand still intertwined with his as they enter the master room. She gasps at the sight of the room, makes her jealous of John Baker and his wife sleeping here; spending the night with arms tangled in pure orgasmic bliss.

“This is pretty.”

It truly is. The bed is a gorgeous brown orange hue with muted brown carpet. It seems old, in a way that ages beautifully. Like fine wine. They must’ve been artists for the walls are littered with paintings signed by JB and OB. Their names.

She searches through their wardrobe while Bucky lays on the bed, eyes flutters close and a sigh escapes his chest. “I like this.” He admits, murmurs it to himself but he’s sure that Y/n heard it. 

She just hums at this, continues her search until she finds something odd and smiles when she sees a pearl necklace cold and unused in her hands. She’s quick to throw it on, look in a mirror with doubt in her eyes. She knows it has her look elegant, much mature, and sensual with the low cut of her shirt. 

It clashes with her own necklace, the gold chain and her engraved name sits on her décolletage, cold and heavy against her chest and she tucks it in.

He surprises her when she feels a cold hand touch the nape of her neck. Her eyes finding his baby blues in the mirror while he fingers the pearls that sit on her neck. “I think it’s Ophelia’s necklace. Her closet is intact. Beautiful robes, dresses in there.”

“Ophelia?” He asks.

She nods at this, sweeps her hair to the side to give him access to the necklace more. He swallows at the sight, her neck bare with the exception of the pearls and gold. “I gave her name since she doesn't have one. John and Ophelia. Rolls off the tongue nicely, doesn't it?”

He hums, making her smile as she turns towards him. “I want to go for a swim.”

  
  
  
  
  


He chose to lay for a while in the grass, they’re tall and they’re almost intimidating if it weren’t for the proud sun protecting him from the dangers of the night. She convinced him to stay for the night here, just for a little bit as the journey back to the cabin would venture into the night. He hates that idea and agreed, promised her the master bed for the night.

She busies herself in the lake, wears one of Ophelia’s bathing suit that seemed to be a size too small for her as her breasts nearly spilled from their confinement. When the water becomes too cold for comfort, she rushes out of the water and marches her way where Bucky lays.

Her body shines and drips with cold water, chest bounces with every step she takes and it excites Bucky as if he were a teenage boy again. Thankfully, using one of the fancy robes from the closet, she uses it to dry herself off before plopping down beside Bucky on the grass. “How’s the water?”

“Cold. We should’ve gone in the summer. It would’ve been warmer.” She turns to her side, lays comfortably on her hands while peering up at Bucky. “I like it here, a lot. Feels homey and we have a new wardrobe thanks to John and Ophelia.”

He turns as well, fallen tendrils off his hair frames his face causing her to reach out to touch them; fragile movements push away at the fallen hair, she sweeps them back between his ear. “You should dry up. Get changed. I’ll prepare us lunch.” She nods and follows his lead back into the house.

  
  
  


The china plates clatter softly against the marbled top, she has been right about this being John and Ophelia’s own little home. It must’ve been a summer home, owned for their own personal use, their love must’ve been strong for them to buy another house for the summer. Of course, she guessed that correctly.

It’s time for lunch and as he told her, she should be up in the bedroom. He knows she likes it there, saw the way she smiled and looked in awe in the room. He doesn’t blame her, this whole place is beautiful, retro in some aspect but still with a hint of modern eccentricity.

He has to get her down for lunch now, which brings him up the flight of stairs before he arrives by the master. The door is wide open, like it always is anyways at home. He stands by the frame, finds her barely dressed; pink underwear presumably was Ophelia’s, as she slipped into one of the lavender nighties.

He wants to pry his eyes away but finds it rather difficult to look away at the pretty thing in front of him. She’s the first one to notice, however, doesn’t jolt at the sight of him watching her; only smiles before entering into the bathroom to come out with something between her dainty fingers.

“Guess what I found?” She wiggles an item in front of him, he stops her by the wrist. Irks a brow at her as if he were offended; he weren’t but he found the way her heart dropped at the contact a beautiful type of entertainment. “We can finally trim that son of a bitch.”

“Oh, you have a filthy mouth, little girl.”

Her body rumbles with a chuckle at his words, it has her cheeks warming up with embarrassment. She loved the nickname, especially the one he called her on her birthday, just one of the many things that she remembered that night. “You’ll deal with it later.”

  
  
  


Bucky sits by the closed toilet seat that night, Y/n settles in between his parted legs with the razor in her hands. She’s so close to him, face hovers merely centimetres away from his as she focuses in. 

“You know what I found in their kitchen?”

She hums for him to continue, moves his chin slightly to get a new patch of skin.

“They have a whole stock full of alcohol. Rum. Whiskey. Vodka. You name it.”

“I found something better, at least for you anyways. We both know, I’m gonna down at least one of the four you mentioned today.”

That makes him chuckle, eyes her face, lips, and eyes. Even up close, he’s able to see the imperfections that make her look like an old piece of artwork. The pimple scars on her cheek and nose, faded from years ago but still present as ever.

“I found some comics...about your friend. Captain America, as we liked to call him in school. Most of my classmates had crushes on him, giggled as if he were in the room himself.” She shakes her head at the thought, it’s a funny story really. She never found the appeal, attraction? Not quite but admiration? Possibly.

“And what about you? Did you like him just as your school mates had?” The question is genuine and it has her face contorting as a reaction.

“He's...handsome, sure. But he’s not my type.”

“What is your type?”

She steps away from him, smiles gingerly and sweeps off the hair from his neck then goes to wash the razor in the sink. Bucky steps away and checks himself in the mirror, he’s cleaner, sharper and he can tell that she has experience. 

That’s another question for another day. Right now, he thanks her for the favour. Eyes the pearls on her neck instead of her eye.

  
  
  
  
  


He lays on the couch in front of her, swigs another sip of the rum and sighs at the burn it gives in his stomach. Her fingers are careful when they run through his long locks, she never pulls too hard, or too soft as she braids. 

They share countless stories, he tells her about the man in the comic book. The Star Spangled Man, Captain America, or as he knew, Steve Rogers.

She smiles whenever he shares a youthful parable, always the same. Always ending up with him saving Steve’s scrawny ass from bullies. She thinks of how kind and courage he must’ve been back then, he still is, always been given with what he’s endured. It warms her heart at the idea that it never changes, even with what he’s been through, he’s always been selfless.

“Do you miss him?”

She tucks in strands of his hair behind his ear, continues to braid the last pieces until there’s no more brown hair to pull.

“Of course. I wonder all the time where he is right now. Whether it be in death, he may have found peace, or in life. I wonder about it a lot.”

Y/n nods carefully at his answer, thinks about for a little while before she responds back.

“Well, wherever he may be. I’m sure he’s thinking of you just as you are thinking of him.” Smiles to herself as she takes in her final work. “Okay, you're finished.” 

Bucky turns around in his seat, faces her from where she’s sitting on the love seat with legs crossed, dress bunching up just enough to give anyone a glimpse of those pink cottons from Ophelia. “How do I look?”

“Like a lady waiting for marriage, sir.”

The joke makes his eyes roll, tongue stick out at her in a playful manner that they truly enjoy together. It’s rare that they have moments like these back at the canin, perhaps it’s the energy of John and Ophelia or perhaps it’s the alcohol. Either way, both bring some sort of serenity between them that they wish to lose themselves to get away from reality.

“You’re very dashing. Elegant if I must say.” She reaches out to touch his braids, both on each side just as he asked, she smiles at him while she admires her muse. “I’ve done a great job.”

“You have skilled hands, my dear.” 

He passes the bottle to her, takes a long sip that burns her throat with a hiss before she stops with a coughing fit. “Holy shit, that’s strong.”

“We have to do something about that dirty mouth of yours.”

The comment has her frozen in place, cheeks warm to his words, certainly not the alcohol. She watches as a knowing smile erupts on his face, eyes fluttering close as he presses his cheek against her bare thigh as if she were his pillow. 

“Sleep is our friend, my dear. Take advantage of it while we can.”

  
  
  



	8. I Was All Over Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “every stranger makes me feel safer  
> and every person seems more beautiful“  
> — i was all over her

The full moon will be greeting them tonight. Loud and bright over their cabin home, they must settle down and prepare for whatever new challenges the moon good shall cast upon them.

Bucky plucks the finished crops from their personal garden, made from bare woods and nails that nearly had them hammering hands off.

Y/n prepares water for the night, clean one, so they’re able to use it to wash the carrots.

She watches from inside, a small window in the kitchen as he's in the greenhouse busy as a bee while thoughts of his appearance washes her mind.

He’s become pale, worn in every sense of way and she knows exactly why. It’s been days since his last feed, the last one being a small bunny that she’s sure didn’t fully satisfy him. She wants to help him, she’s not sure how but she does.

She’s broken out of her thoughts when his steps clack against the wooden floors, bringing her out of her own head. They prepare dinner together, the soft rainfall begins outside and brings some sort of comfort between the air. Y/n knows he isn’t in the best mindset right now, he’s starving and yet he still prepares dinner with her.

The fire crackles alone with them. It’s quieter than usual, however she’s not going to push anything.

They sit by the fire tonight, bringing them warmth and comfort as they spend most of their time drinking. It’s what they’ve done for the past weeks lately, thanks to John and Ophelia’s stash, they have alcohol, a new wardrobe, and razors galore.

She eyes his metal fingers, holds them in her palms drunkenly gawking at the intricacies of the metal. “Do you remember what I asked you at our first time at John and Ophelia’s?” He hums at this, lays his head down on the couch and closes his eyes in ecstasy. “You should feed on me.”

He lets out a small chuckle, almost finding it quite funny at the idea. “You’re funny, little one.” 

She purses her lips, tugs on his arm to jolt him back to reality. Huffing, she gives him a big pout on her lips. “I’m serious, James. I hate seeing you like this. I’m offering myself. I trust you. You’ll never hurt me.”

This brings him out his reverie, eyes wide as he looks at her confused and in shock. She holds his hand tight as if to reassure him. It has him sitting up, closer to her than before with sunken cheeks and eyes. A defeated sigh comes out, he thinks it over; realizes that what she says is true and that she trusts him more than anything, more than anyone and that scares him.

He controlled himself as a person, as a creature but given with the full moon, who knows. 

“James…” She tugs on his hand again, looks at him with a beg in her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be from my neck.”

His flesh hand comes up to cup her cheek, eyes flutter close as he makes a final decision. A kind smile blossoms on his lips, curves so ever beautifully. “You are a kind thing, my dear.”

“And you need to feed.” 

He watches her move closer to him, a few inches away from each other’s faces. She greets him with a kind smile before reaching out for her hand, he shakes his head. “I want you to feel it first. You can always back away.” She nods, almost instantly and she cringed internally at her excitement.

His mouth parts, sharp fangs showing themselves to her and her eyes fill with curiosity and wonder at the sight. She’s never seen them so up close, let alone have one prick her skin. But she’s excited, nervous even with the way the teeth looks like they’re never even plucked skin before. 

Bucky’s grip on her wrist is gentle but firm, guides it towards his mouth with her finger out. He’s careful with how much pressure he adds, only lets his fangs prick the soft skin of her finger until he hears a hiss from her. “I’m fine. Keep going.” His eyes remain on her, but his mouth tastes sweetness, honey, blood. 

All of her on his tongue for the first time and he’s brought back to the first time he was changed, bloodlust swirling in his eyes at the mere drop of her. 

He laps her up, licks over the wound like a kitten to heal her up. Softly tugging at her arm, he pulls her towards him, nearly sitting on his lap but not quite with the way she straddles one of his thighs. “Tell me, ‘kay?” She nods, anticipating the bite, always the worst part of these things she’s heard from the people at school. At least the ones who experienced encounters with these creatures.

With a simple prick, he sinks in. Skin rips like fragile paper, honey nectar films his mouth, all of her, so much of her, all of it so sweet and it has him moaning against her hand. 

Her hiss reaches his ears but no proclamations of doubts come out from her, instead, he feels her heart rush, beat louder at the pull of his mouth at her blood. Body juts forward against his thigh and he smells nothing but her, euphoria present underneath her nightie.

Her bottom lip stuck between teeth, while eyes flutter closed. He was right about everything that night. It can be pleasurable and it was. She’s never felt this peace in such an action. Especially with the way his metal hand holds her at the bottom of her spine.

He laps up the last of her, pulls his fangs away from the skin before licking over the wound. It’s sharp and clean, no scars for sure. She returns to reality with a heavy sigh, keeps a hand on his chest to keep herself from falling back. With a kiss to her palm, he settles back in and lays his head back on the couch.

They sit still, with her straddling his thigh, head on his chest. It’s so intimate, so personal, nothing both of them had done before. It’s scary, to say the least, to fall for that trap the loneliness of the virus curses them with. Bucky had lived through it before, found comfort in someone as well only for them to leave him. He’s afraid, of course, to fall back in that same cycle.

This is new for the both of them. 

“You could never hurt me.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, my dear.”

She wants to argue, tell him that she hates that idea, that she’ll always be safe in his arms but decides that it’s best not to argue with a vampire. Instead, she settles in his arms and sighs.

Bucky decides they’ll go to sleep early tonight. Get the rest she needs, save her energy for tomorrow’s chores. He’s drained her enough for the night, needs her to be healthy. 

Which is why he brings them back to bed, pells off the quilt on their bed to tuck her in. It’s getting colder, even inside and with the rain that falls outside, there’s an extra chill that raises goosebumps on her skin.

She snuggles against the pillow, practically purrs at the safety and comfort the blanket gives her. He’s the next one to slip in the bed, blows out the candle on the bedside table. He turns to her, smiles then kisses her forehead gentle as he greets her a goodnight.

He stirs awake, silence from the stop of the rainfall catching his attention even in slumber. He decides to return back to his sleep, but the sound of her heavy breathing has him pausing in his position. 

His heart drops at the idea of what she must be doing. This isn’t the first time this happened, he forgets most of the other times. However, this is different, he listens carefully to how she breathes, heavy but fragile little gasps that fall from her lips.

His eyes turn, looks, he shouldn’t have, but he did, and sees what has him swallow a gulp. She's peeled the quilt off her throughout the night, found it too hot and had her nightie bunch around her stomach. Dainty fingers buried underneath white cottons, sawing slowly back and forth but enough for anyone, for him, to understand what she was doing.

He eyes her face instead, anything but the way she pleasures herself right beside him. A contradiction to his, closed eyes, mouth parted while cute gasps fall. 

He closes his eyes, attempts to fall back to slumber and ignore the way she nears her euphoria. But it’s too late, the bed rattled softly and so does her breath. The smallest bit of a mewl leaves and his eyes scrunches, turns on his side, legs dangling off the side of the bed, which has her pausing.

“James…?” He turns, which he shouldn’t have, as he catches her propped on elbows; nightie still wrapped around her navel, revealing her undies; wet, soppy, and stuck to her slick skin.

“Go back to sleep, my dear. I’m just getting water.” He sends her a smile, one that she seems to be fooled by and nods. He leans over to her, presses his dry lips against her forehead before he leaves.

Swallows deeply, he finds himself outside at the porch; hard against his pants, sweaty and heavy in his chest. “Fuckin’ bastard.” He tells himself, running his fingers through his hair. “Traitor.” He looks down, pants a tent as he sits down on the swing and sighs, looks up at the empty sky with hope that’ll go away. Just as his guilt will, he hopes.


	9. Bubble Gum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “sorry i didn't kiss you  
> but it's obvious i wanted to  
> bubble gum down my throat  
> and it's a curse” — bubble gum

He’s awake before she is, ready by the kitchen preparing their breakfast. She knows he can hear her make her way, she’s not very quiet about it either as her steps are heavy just as her eyes with sleep.

When she reaches the kitchen, he’s sitting by the table, already eating without her and she plays a pout when she takes a seat across him. “Morning.” She says, rather too enthusiastically for her own liking. Clearly, it was as Bucky doesn’t respond; just ignores her as if she weren’t there.

Her brows pinches in confusion, however she ignores it as well and continues to eat her food. It happens for a few days; the silent treatment, the silence, she's sure this was about last night. How he fed on her. Of course the guilt and shame sits heavy on his shoulder, she was so naive to think it wasn’t. 

She becomes angry, just as he is and ignores him. Works in the greenhouse rather than in the back of the house because she hates him, hates how he’s treating her. 

They yell at each other one night, tells him that she doesn’t like him, he yells back. She sleeps on the couch for the first time in months, cries herself to sleep.

Another night, she spends it in the forest, rain mixing with her tears while she goes out for a walk. Her eyes are red, rimmed and puffy as she returns drenched and arms crossed in anger. Still, he waits by the porch and takes her in, leads her inside where he peels off her sweater. Her arms crossed as she covers her dignity’s waiting for him to peel off her leggings next. 

He gulps at the tinge of red on her underwear, realizes that she’s starting her period and she doesn’t even realize it. He’s quick to hand her a tampon, as her peering up at him like she’s shocked herself. Not wanting her to get sick, he pulls out one of Ophelia’s fancy robes and wraps it around her.

However, she’s as stubborn as he is. Barely bats an eye as she makes her way back into their bedroom, locks herself in the bathroom to dry off; only has her ending up crying herself in the tub. Bucky sits against the door, hears the way she sobs to herself. He only finds comfort when she quiets down, her breathing calms, only till then he falls asleep.

  
  
  
  


He’s woken when the door swings open, it’s still in the middle of the night, the bugs still sing to their lovers and his eyes are wide when he peers up to see her.

Her eyes are sad, puffy and red still and he frowns at the sight. She drops in front of him, hugs her knee: to her chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I’m just confused.” She shakes her head at this, claws at her eyes to remove the tears.

Bucky doesn’t respond, he accepts her apology, he doesn’t know what it’s for but he’ll take it for now. Instead, he takes her in his arms, carries her like a babe in a mother’s arms back to their bed. 

“Don’t do that again, please. Don't ignore me. Don’t leave me alone during chores or dinner.” She turns to him, shakes her head as if she were getting rid of those distasteful thoughts. 

He holds her close, holds her head near to his heart and lets it sing her until she passes out. He doesn’t say it but he knows he wouldn’t dare to leave her, wouldn’t dare let anyone hurt such a thing. She’s his just as much as he is hers.

  
  
  
  


They venture into a town later that day. Bucky decides its best to go out and scavenge for a little bit as they’ve been stuck in the cabin and lake house for over the past three months. 

They pass by a gas station, empty nothings and rotten foods sitting on shelves while flies visit. She’s the first to smell it and scrunches her face in pure disgust. As expected, there was nothing there, with the exception of a new bottle of neon pink nail polish Y/n grins in excitement.

“There’s nothing here.” Bucky announces as he returns from the manager’s room. But with the sight in front of him, he pauses. 

Y/n freezes in her spot, clutches the bottle of nail polish to her chest as the man behind her holds a knife against her neck. He hears the fear practically beating out of her chest, it’s so prominent, so terrifying to hear such a thing. “Don’t move or her throat gets slit.” He takes a step forward, it’s small but it’s enough that it sets the man off. “I fucking mean it.”

Bucky has a scowl on his face the moment the man pushes the tip of the knife against her skin, it’s not hard enough to pierce through the deep layers of her skin but enough to prick blood out. The way she whimpers in fear is clear to his ear, he has to make a decision, right there and right now. “Close your eyes, little one.”

Her eyes flutter close and her hands tighten their grip on the small bottle of polish. Within seconds, she’s free of the hold and dangers of the knife against her neck and catches Bucky’s in the man’s position instead. 

She stumbles clumsily over a can of rotten beans, falls against the cash out counter with a thud. Her eyes still remain on Bucky and the grey haired man stuck between his chokehold.

“How many of you are there?”

The bell rings with another visitor, all heads turn to the entrance and there stood a girl merely Y/n’s age, younger, perhaps two to three years, but enough to know what was going on. “Dad?” She cried out for him.

“Ah, so this is your daughter. Tell me, is your love for her stronger than your ego itself? Or will I have to answer that for you and have her watch?” Bucky presses the knife deeper into the man’s neck, much like what he did to her, only this time, he shows no mercy to this stranger. It pierces the man’s skin, blood drips from his neck that has him screaming in pain.

His daughter’s eyes find Y/n’s, a look of plea from the teen to ask her companion to stop the torture. But she simply stands still, in shock herself that she’s witnessing the very thing history textbooks describe. The fine line between the Soldier and James Barnes. 

This was all the Soldier.

“Maybe a few! Two or three. I don’t know. We’ve gone through towns from down south, found nothing till we came here. It’s just me and her here. Let us go!”

A dark chuckle rumbles through Bucky, makes his whole body shakes at the man’s pleas. As if it were pure entertainment for him. “You see, I value her safety more than your life.” He nods towards her, face softens the slightest bit at the sight of her. But that disappears when he returns his focus back at the man. “I would do anything for her just as you would for your daughter. So, you can understand why I have to do this. Look away, Y/n.”

And she does. Turns her head and cover her ears to push away the horrific screams of the two. One are begs from the father, one are cries from the daughter as Bucky does god knows what. She doesn’t picture the look of the room right now, thinks she’s gonna pass out if she does. Instead, she focuses on the wall stacked with magazines, thinks of which to bring back home after this is all over so she can read.

When all she could hear was silence, her head turned the slightest bit around. Eyes curious but afraid of what will be held in front of her. She swallows spit at the sight, his whole face splattered in blood just as his shirt is soaked in it. His hands, god his hands, they were as if he had gone finger painting in red. She doesn’t dare to bat an eye at the ground because she knows, she knows what she’ll see and she’s not prepared to deal with that truth.

He picks her up, with no care that the blood will most likely stain her skin; he cares more about her safety rather than that. He eyes the car by the front, it’s old, looks like an old VW Beetle. Bucky thinks they must’ve used it to drive here, there’s still gas in it, more so in the truck as they probably had scavenged and saved up for future trips.

  
  
  
  
  


They drive back to their cabin in silence, Y/n’s knees are pressed up against her chest, eyes peering out of the window as they pass the road, lines and lines of trees in their way.

And when they arrive back home, the car’s engine roars off. Bucky sits still in his seat, hands gripping the wheel with a force that has his knuckles white. She hears him sigh, loudly as his eyes close shut.

“You’re leaving aren’t you?” She asks, is first to break the ice between them. Her voice is wary, nervous, and almost afraid for his answer to be.

It takes a moment for him to compose himself, push away the soldier inside and bring out the James she’s seen. “It’s for your own good.” She doesn’t say anything, accepts the fact and moves on. She’s been angry for long enough at him when he ignored her for weeks on end.

He follows her back into the house, obeys when she says to wash up. He finds her by their bed, fast asleep while neon pink painted toes wiggle out fork the guilt. He smiles at the sight, but frowns when he realizes he has to leave her for a little while. He reminds himself it’s for her own good, that he wants nothing but safety for her and if it meant killing what’s left of them, then he’d gladly do it.

He eyes the way she looks so at peace. Makes him wonder if she was dreaming right now and if it were good dreams. He wished nothing but tranquility in her sleep. He sends his last goodbye, leans over to her and presses a kind kiss to her forehead. And just as he was to stand still, her hand held out for his arm.

“James?” She knuckles at her eyes and then props herself up on elbows. He hums, allows her to continue her words. “Be back soon.” He just nods, smiles but then he’s off.

She’s alone for weeks on end. Busies herself with chores, picks up crops from the greenhouse, passes out on most days thanks to the rum. She grows angry a lot. Yells and cries herself to sleep, thinks about him if he’s safe or if he’s dead. 

On one occasion, she throws the empty bottle of wine at the fire, curses drunkenly at the flame and starts blaming herself for something out of her control.

Another, she finds herself out in the dark, sits by the porch while it pours out and the candle flickered to death. She knew it was dangerous, especially the fact that she was left alone by herself without any aid from Bucky, but she fell asleep anyway. Found comfort in the cold even though she wore one of his sweaters.

  
  
  
  


She finds herself on the couch, book in hand, attempting to finish whatever left she had to read of Jane Austen. She stirs in her spot, changes position until she grows frustrated and shuts the book.

She’s ready to turn in, go to sleep and wait another day for him to return. In times like these, she wishes she had her phone; play a game or too, look at what people would be doing right now on social media if they weren’t dead. But she couldn’t, instead she had to endure every ticking second.

  
  
  
  


He finds her sleeping on the couch, the quilt from their bedroom wrapped around her frame while the fire crackles in front of her. By the end of the couch, he finds her favourite drink, the wine finished and empty all thanks to her.

He greets her with a kiss, presses on her forehead as he sweeps the tendrils of hair out of her face. She stirs, jolts awake at the intruder only to realize it’s not a stranger. It’s one of the sweetest creatures she’s grown with. 

“You’re back.” She beams with a looped smile and heavy lids only for it to turn into a frown when she touches how cold his cheek is. “You need to feed.”

He shakes his head at this, intertwines his hands with hers and kisses her knuckles. “I’m fine. Their blood was just mixed with vervain.” She jumps to the edge of the couch, has him settle between her legs and she shakes her head as a rebuttal.

“No, I told you. I’ll be fine, you need to feed.” Her fingers move on their own accord, running them through his brown locks. They’re longer now, hit his shoulders and they’re easier to braid. “You made a promise to the full moon tonight, James. Don’t worry about me.”

He sighs in defeat. She’ll always be right, of course. Sometimes he hates it, hates how she’s used it to her advantage. “I will always worry about you, darling.” His fingers grip her thighs, thanks the gods she’s worn shorts tonight as he parts her legs open. She mumbles a reassurance, poems of words that trust is something she’ll always have with him. “Tell me if it hurts. I’ll stop.”

He pulls a leg over his shoulder, peers up from his lashes and sees her gazing up at the ceiling. He crosses his fingers with the hand that lays on her stomach, a slight squeeze to console her beating heart. “I will.” She says, so sure of her own self. 

His fangs prick the skin of her inner thighs, pierces easily like rice paper and she squeezes his hand in return. The moment she fills his mouth after weeks of tainted blood from hunters, he feels himself exhale a release. His eyes shutting close just as hers down in ecstasy. 

With every pull, every draw, her centre scratches roughly against the arm between her legs. Has her chest heaving and tummy churning at the euphoric feeling she’s receiving. It’s unusual, feels different especially with the fact he's feeding from her thigh. A place he’s never done before. She makes a mental note to thank him later, tell him that she was right and all he does is give her nothing but comfort.

And when his stomach rumbles with content, he pulls free from her skin and has his tongue replace where his teeth were once; laps her up, circles carefully around the skin to bring her back together. 

“James…” Her voice becomes a beg, her hands squeezing harder around his.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He shakes his head, almost fills with guilt with what she’s asking him to do to her. “But I can’t.”

“Please?” She mewls at the way his arm rubs against her, has her hips bucking up in anticipation that she seems to no longer can take. And with the way she looks at him with those doe eyes, sadness swirling in them, he pauses. Thinks that just this once, he’ll let himself go and help her.

“The moon speaks for the both of us tonight, little one. I hope you know what you are asking me to do.” A kiss to her wound, another to the other side. She sighs, smiles down at him in pure bliss.

“I do. I want you. Only you.”

He eyes her one last time, looks for any sign of regret hiding beneath drooping eyes. He finds none. Only sees pure need, desire, and every bit of lust. Which is enough for him to succumb to his own and pulls down at her shorts, revealing nothing but her white knickers; sodden and slick with the smell of her on her skin. 

With thanks to the moon, they peek through the blinds and cast a below glow on her. Almost like a shadow, a knowing one that curses them to succumb to their biggest desires. “You will be the death of me.” His words has her wiggling in anticipation, earning herself a look from him. 

Then he's yanking down her panties, no hesitation, just pure eagerness. He pauses, takes in the sight like he were a teenage boy again. She’s wet, slick, and so swollen that she’s practically dripping onto the couch. He just watches, takes in the sight of her before doing anything. 

Like a painting, she’s every bit of detail he takes in. The tuft of hair on her pubic bone, the mole on her inner thigh, he has painted this picture in his head. In times where the moon is stronger than he is, thoughts, desires lust over him with no control and he’s just as hard as he was when he caught her beside him.

Just as he takes in every bit of her, every single drip of honey, he takes the first lick. The first strip against her core that has her letting out the smallest gasp of an  _ oh _ , if it weren’t for his hearing. That very bit of waiting, gone as Bucky pushes more towards hers. 

He almost loses himself in the taste, the feeling of her if it weren’t for the way she squeezed his hand. The guilt, the lust, both seeping and emerging into one that he can’t find the fine line between. He’s lost, very much so as he laps every drop of sweet sweet sugar that falls from her to his tongue.

It was like if he were able to die, this must’ve been what heaven would’ve been like. 

And any man, especially him, between her legs find the way they know she will unravel soon enough. Mentally, he forgives her for letting go easily and so quickly, for she is an inexperienced young babe; that he knew the moment she laid eyes on his tattoo and still accepted him.

She urges him forward, delicate hands handling the bloodied hair on his head with the slightest tug a woman in pleasure can gift to her lover. It is her way of showing, she is his, and this is his way, he is hers. Like they were made for each other, eras wrong and the time right. Even if it means losing everyone around them.

A feeling, she’s nearing, something she’s never felt by another. Just as he is, learning to love, to accept his true nature and emotions towards her as his companion through this journey. 

He wants to feel this. Every bit of it with her. To feel her around him, clenching so unconsciously. To hear how smooth and desperate his name falls from her mouth. He wants it. But doubts as it may be the moon talking instead of him. He will know, soon, after this fateful night between.

After those sorrowful cries that fall from her as her whole shakes with pleasure, excitement, and for her first time; euphoria. Something she must be grateful for when lays still on the couch; chest heaving and eyes foggy. 

He pulls away, much to her demise, and wipes away what’s left of her on the back of his hand. However, still smells and tastes her even when he’s long gone from the apex of her core.

Breathily, she sighs. “The moon must be good to us, tonight.” 

He senses the smile on her face as she says this, makes one appear out of genuine content on his as well. Eventually, he lays her down, so does himself beside her. She turns, crosses her jelly legs in the process and reaches for his hand.

They don’t say much but the message of a thank you sits on the edge of her lips. Soon, her eyes become too heavy for her own good as they flutter close. A smile, private to his own, blossoms on Bucky’s face as he takes her in. 

The only light between them; the fire. He keeps it on till he’s fallen himself asleep. Hands still together as always and he dreams lovingly of her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yelling as i write this!!!! okok, listen, it’s not your average slow burn fic where the kiss is the climax. i mean, it kind still is but take it as you want, this is more just a gesture of desire than actual affection. i hope that makes sense!! but ugh, i really enjoyed writing this chapter, added some angst in there and some foreshadowing


	10. Mystery of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “lord, i no longer believe,  
> drowned in living waters  
> cursed by the love that i receive”  
> — mystery of love

It’s the first day of fall. It must be as they stepped out on the outside, they’re greeted with a chill that reached the end of their spines. She smiles, sadly at the idea and thoughts of the festivities fall has brought back then; back when family was alive and spoken.

With luck, she rubs away the sad tears that stain her cold cheek, attempts to stifle a sniffle against her sweater. She’s sure he can hear her, with no doubt.

They’re going hunt, well, more specifically him with that but she tells him she adored nature so why not join him as well. He doesn’t let her on most days see what he does, tells her to close her eyes as if he were ashamed of himself. 

When they stop, she pauses behind him, crosses her arms together and waits patiently. He turns, a finger to his mouth as if to shush her. They both eye the wild hare across the distance, it’s busy hopping around, chewing at something down on the grass to care about the two humans feet away. 

He doesn’t say anything this time. Let’s her keep her eyes open and witness the way he speeds off and back with the hare in his arms; limp and lifeless and she gulps at the sight. 

“What’s on your mind, my dear?” He asks it, so nonchalantly as if he weren’t drawing his fangs towards the skin of the hare. 

She eyes him down, refuses to break it as she knew if she did, she’d mostly regret it. “Just you.” She admits it rather sheepishly with a grin. He hums at this, sends her a look of approval before sinking down on the animal. She flinches at the sight, brows pinched, and face contorted.

But the way he looks. It’s a sight to see. To see him on his knees with his face flexed in pleasure, soft hums of a moan leaving his mouth as he does so. She hates to admit it but it’s there, sodden and slick between her legs.

Bucky smiles, she doesn’t see it but her scent is what has his lips curving in beautiful entertainment. When seconds pass by and he’s filled his craving, the hare lays limp and dry and ready to cut for tonight’s dinner.

They return back home, a shifting slick between her legs while they sit and do chores. She buries a moat by the front, shovels deep and hard for the next few hours until he returns back and watches her from the porch.

She smells the distinct wave of weed in the air, her head peers up with a contorted look; as if she didn’t believe the idea that someone was smoking a joint, especially in this state.

She gasps at the joint in Bucky’s hands, a grin spreads over his face as she marches her way towards him with passion. A look of bewilderment written. “Where did you get that?” She points with a scowl. Reaches forward for the joint, he scolds her for that. “I want some.” She pouts.

He has to chuckle at the way she sounds, like a mere child asking for candy. “Found it back at the bookstore. Manager’s secret stash. Along with some...graphic magazines.” She grins at him, biting her tongue from laughing at the way he squirms from his own memory.

“How rude. You didn’t think to share.”

“Well, we were too occupied to remember.”

He chuckles internally at the look on her face, flushed cheeks and embarrassed eyes, he can hear the way her own heart rushes at the memory of what they had done days ago. Even if he had broken the rule of not talking about it, throwing it out.

Under her breath, she says breathily, “I suppose we were.” Peers up at him then reaches out once again for the joint, this time he lets her have it; let’s her take a hit and she sighs with content.

  
  
  


She runs him a bath, it’s colder outside, and he’s dirty from the shoveling. She makes it warm as possible, let’s him know that the water is ready. She leads him inside the bathroom, smiles at him.

“It’s ready.” She tells him, sits on the toilet seat while he strips down to his boxers. She ducks her head, embarrassed and flushed. “I’ll go. I’ll—”

He stops her, a hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine. I’d love a little company.” His words take her back. Company? With him during a bath? She doesn’t say anything but a nod, sits back down and watches her neon pink painted toes wiggle against the floor tiles while he peels off the last of his clothes and sinks down into the bath.

“So, are we going to talk about it?” She’s the first to break the ice, the silence between them in the bathroom. It’s so undeniably uncomfortable between them, with the topic and tension, the memory returns to them, thinks of how the moon had them begging at each other’s feet with lust

“We made a promise to throw it away.”

A sigh, a loud one as she wipes away at the fallen tears on her face. But a smile presents it on her face, contradicting herself. Then a nod. “You know, I used to love the water. The lakes. Pools. I miss all of them.”

He frowns, pouts at the way she tears up at the memory. It’s been like that lately. Sad nights thy end up in sad sleep, red rimmed and puffy eyes. It’s a dark time for the both of them. Loneliness cursing them both darkly.

“I never thought I’d miss the little things. Maybe the big things but now that everything and everyone is gone...I miss it.” A sad look blossoms in her eyes, swirls of tiresome, all of them. 

The water ripples with his movements, has him reaching out to her with wet and cold hands. “It’s not a pool or a lake. But it’s the closest thing I can offer.” 

She eyes him, never falters down to his bare body under the water. He watches as the gears work behind her eyes. A decision, waiting to be made.

“You would do that?”

Breathily, he eyes her lips, bottom stuck between her teeth as she peers at him with wonder.

“I would do anything for you.”

A pause. A pregnant one as her heart leaps out of her chest, booming loud and clear for him to hear. She takes his words in, like a careful note, a poem; his own proclamation of his admiration towards her. And within seconds, she pushes away from her seat, straddles his bare body as her clothes soak the water beneath.

Lips mold like a puzzle piece, warm and breathy against each other as his tongue explores every inch of her mouth. Like their lips, skin is slick and wet. A quick decision is made, his own, moves down nips against the underside of her salty skin, so delicate and precious that a simple prick leaves her ruined. 

Not to him. No, she’s perfect in ways that he could never imagine. Angel, is what she is. Ethereal, heavenly, every inch of her as he kisses her where he pulse lays and throbs. Mewls of his name enter his ear, he keeps her there; a metal hand on the back of her head. 

He pierces carefully, quietly as sharp teeth sinks below her skin. Like a delicate flower, she crumbles under him; jello feet and a head thrown back. A gasp falls from her honey lips, ever careful and soft, she falls deeper into the trap that is him.

It is true what he says. It can be both painful and pleasurable. He chooses to do the latter. Give her the serenity and peace she’s been begging. So, he pulls, draws every drop of her into his mouth and it has her completely moaning on top of him. 

“James…” Came his name shakily, her eyes fluttering close as his mouth dug further and blood dripped down her chest quicker; staining the water a beautiful pink. And just as quick, she fell into a slumber that only she succumbed to.

  
  


He’s quick to pull back the moment he realizes she’s fallen unconscious. A large pang of guilt shoots through him. She’s on his chest, clothes soaked with the pink tinged water no thanks to her. “The moon isn’t kind to us, little one. I’m sorry.”

He takes it himself to bring her back to their room. Changes himself first before he peels her clothes off as without even gawking an eye at her bare breasts. He changes her into one of his sweaters, the red one that she adores to steal. He thinks of giving to her but that’s no fun.

  
  
  


She finds him doing her chores the next late morning. His sweater loose on her frame, still, however warm it is, the fall weather still sends a chill down her spine. She strides towards him, arms hugging herself. 

“Good morning.” She flinches at the pitch in her voice, realizing that she’s too enthusiastic for what had happened last night.

He pauses what he’s doing, holds the basket filled with the vegetables against his hip and smiles up at her. “Morning. You ready for breakfast?” She nods then he leads them back inside.

He washes the vegetables then makes a veggie broth. Their bowls filled with it as they ate in silence. They know the topic sits heavy in the air and on their tongue. Bucky knows she wants to talk about it, he doesn’t but either way, sooner or later, it would have to come up.

“No more feeding.”

She pauses, sets her spoon down and stirs in her seat. 

“Got it. No more feeding during baths.”

He shakes his head, a stubborn look on his face.

“No. Just no more feeding. I could’ve hurt you. Drained you and I could never live with myself if I do that.” Her face contorts, as if she were offended and confused at the same time. She shakes her head, reaches out for him, expects him to pull away but he doesn’t. He doesn’t and it warms her heart. 

“But you didn’t. I’m fine, a little lightheaded but who isn’t after a vampire feeds on you?” Bucky sighs, steps away from the table and heads towards their room. She’s left to her own devices, locks himself for the day until chores must be made again.

  
  
  
  


As he lays on their bed tonight, quilt over his large frame, he hears the small creak of the door open. She steps in, still wearing his red henley and pads her way to her side of the bed. 

They lay awake, silence overrated for the both of them as crickets sing tonight. Bucky shuts his eyes closed, lets out a breathy sigh before he speaks. “It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t turn to face him, just reaches out for his hand which he takes; intertwines their hands together. “It’s not yours either.”

Then finally, they stir in their spot, turn around and face each other. Fallen tears on her face and a saddened look on his. Almost the tinge of regret sits carefully on the surface. “We owe the moon a great debt. But it is me, who I cannot trust.”

He reaches for the tears that sit heavily on her face, wipes them off with his thumb and she sighs at the contact. “You are an enigma, James Barnes.” With a hand over his, she brings his metal hand to her lips; presses a soft kiss to the cold metal that she’s not entirely sure he can feel. 

She doesn't care. For what she does, it’ll always matter to him.


	11. Absolutely Smitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “she knows this feeling all too well  
> she feels her heart begin to swell  
> handsome stranger, you have made  
> her insides turn to jelly” — absolutely smitten

It’s a full moon. One of the many nights they’ve shared together. Either it be drunk on moonshine, rum, or high on weed, they are nights filled with surprises for the both of them. However, tonight is different.

She’s the one to find the box of board games in the playroom at John and Ophelia’s. A game of 20 questions, cards in deck, and she bounces happily as she sits in front of him. 

“They had Monopoly but that’s for another night.” She plucks a card from the deck, squints her eyes as she reads the fine print. “Oh. What makes you nervous?”

Bucky takes a sip of the rum, his favourite, hers, not so much. He feels the burn down his throat as he swallows down, thinks of his answer for a few seconds. “You.” 

Her cheeks burn at the confession, has her changing the card for another one from the deck and clears her throat. “Would you rather be punished or do the punishing?” She gawks at the question rather embarrassingly. 

Bucky leans back into his seat, crosses his arms that has his shirt tightening around those large muscles. He licks his lips, turns it into a curving grin. “I take that it’s about sex?” She nods, hides a smile behind the cards. “We should have played monopoly instead.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing the card back into the deck. “Okay, fine. Your turn.” He chuckles at her reaction, hands her the rum for a little taste but she declines. 

He plucks a card from the deck, reads the print out loud. “What was your first time like?” 

She freezes in her seat, hair falls to frame her face and she sweeps them back into place behind her ear. She clears her throat, sits up and snatches the card from his fingers. “Maybe we should have played Monopoly.”

“Have you not…?”

She looks at him embarrassed, almost has tears in her eyes and shakes her head while she puts back the cards. She rushes back into the playroom, where the pool table stands but with no balls. He follows along, hears her sniffle and he feels the guilt hit him.

“I’m going to bed early.” She passes him on the way out, keeps her head down while she’s at it as she takes the flight of stairs to their room. 

Bucky stands alone in the room, leans against the pool table and rubs his face. “Jesus Christ, Barnes.” He curses at himself, runs his fingers through his hair and tugs softly. “What an idiot.”

  
  
  
  


He returns to bed early just as well. Strips down to nothing but his boxers just as he always does and slips inside the bed with her. She’s still awake, he can hear her breathing, it’s not as even when she’s at slumber. 

He faces her back, she doesn’t. But he knows she’s still listening regardless. 

“I’m sorry for asking such an invasive question.” She doesn’t move, keeps still and he frowns at this.

“Goodnight, James.”

He sighs, turns back around and attempts to fall asleep himself as well. “Goodnight.”

  
  
  
  


They continue with their day the next morning. He suggests a little relaxation. Suggest that they paint despite not having any mediums. He smiles at that, they forage for berries and mash them up until they’re nothing saturated coloured liquids. They use the cornstarch they found in Ophelia’s cupboard, uses it to mix it with the berries until they’re a paste.

She gawks at the paint, touches it between her fingers and grins up at him. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

He peels off her sweater, they don’t have blank paper so they decided to do body paint. His comes next. Leaves her in one of Ophelia’s lacey bralette. “Steve was always fond of the arts. Met each other in art class. He didn’t have much money and paint was scarce during the war, so he found a way to paint anyways.”

He paints a tree on her stomach, a rose beside it. Beautiful petals blossoming beside it. Thorns sharp but dull. She paints the red star on his flesh arm, using the blue paint instead. Creates a gorgeous hydrangea that snakes and hugs it’s arm.

“Were you ever fond of the arts like him?” She asks, sits back down so he can finish his painting. 

He shakes his head. “Not really. Steve was better at that kind of stuff. I liked the sciences and math studies. Was part of the math club, if you must.” She props herself on her elbow, irks a brow at him as if it were a hard confession to believe.

“You? A math nerd?” She lets out a melodic giggle that echoes in Bucky’s ear. “That is one hard truth.”

He nudges her stomach, all pudgy and stout; filled with beans, veggies grown from their greenhouse. “Well, it is the truth, my dear. I was quite the smart lad, as my mother would boast to her friends about.” There's a grin on his face. “My sister, Rebecca, was more like Steve. Was more into the music and what not. But for me? Numbers were my thing. Guess which was why I was stationed as a marksman.”

He waits for a snarky reply from her but he doesn’t receive one as he peers up and realizes that she’s fallen asleep. A smile blooms on his face. The paint had dried, only stuck in their pants, she’s the first one he decides to clean. In times like these, he wishes Steve were here, capture the art that is her sleeping on the carpet as he wipes away traces of mashed berries.

He takes her back to bed after he’s done finishing up with himself. Tucks her beneath the quilt and lays beside her. She hums, reaches out for him until she finds his arm. Bucky smiles, leans over to kiss her forehead and greet her a goodnight before he too falls into the dream world.

  
  
  


On the usual, he's suppose to be awake before she is. Just like always at dawn, he starts his day by the garden. Today, it’s her time. She stirs in her sleep, eyes wide open and she sees Bucky's face snuggled up against her neck. 

She feels bad as she peels him off. But she kisses him on the nose before she steps out of the room, throws on a robe and makes her way out to the porch of the lake house where they’re gifted with an amazing view of the lake. 

She dozes off: stares into the lake of water and smiles when she sees the ducks on the surface. On most occasions, she wishes the world were simply like this. Filled with serenity and good, no humans, nothing. Just this. But perhaps that’s the loneliness talking. It doesn’t matter, what she has right now is enough.

She’s surprised with a touch to her neck, a gasp falls from her lips as she turns around and finds Bucky behind her. Nothing but in clad boxers, he’s barely even bothered by the cold. “You’re up early.” His voice is groggy, hoarse even.

“It’s a good day, isn’t it?” He hums at this, fingers the pearl necklace that still sits on her neck. Another hand on her hips, pulls her close and flush against him. A soft gasp from her, her heart leaping out of her chest at the contact. “I remember the first time. It was with a girl. We never got far but enough to get a taste of what it could be like.”

He sweeps the hair from her neck, moves them to her shoulder and exposes her beating pulse. “Why did you wait?” He asks, hoping internally that he hadn’t gone too far with his question.

She shrugs, sighs loudly and leans back into his front. “I don’t know...It just didn’t feel right. I thought it did but it didn’t. I wasn’t in the right mind for it, I guess. So, we decided to wait.” The ducks quack loudly, shakes their wings as they walk back to shore.

He twirls a piece of hair between his forefingers, soft hair under a metal touch. “I’m glad you did wait. Your first time is something scared. I would hate for anyone to disappoint you. Especially me.” She pauses, never really needed to do so as she was already still in his arms. 

Eventually, just as he predicted, she pulls away from his touch. Like a breath of warm air, steps aside and heads inside their home. 

An enigma, he may be. An idiot, another.

  
  
  
  


Its lovely day that afternoon. It’s warmer, just as one of the unusual days it is during the fall. They use it to their advantage, sit on the grasslands by the lake. A book in her hands, slumber in his. The dress they found, she wears it with pure confidence. That’s only his fault.

She turns, an hour or two of boredom from the book she’s read, finds him with shut eyes. “What is that look on your face?” His question has her turn a smile on her face.

“It’s just...affection.” She admits, rather sheepishly. He admits a grin as well, props himself up on elbows before pushing himself up to his feet. She greets him with a confused look, watches him dust off dirt. “Where are you going?”

He rushes off back into the house, she sighs, sits back and continues to bask in the sunlight. A slight wind chills through her, has her shivers in a cold. However, the smell of the weed returns in the air. Her attention piques, turns around to catch Bucky returns to his spot with a joint between his sickly lips.

They share the joint, smoke it out in the air until it’s nothing but a piece of a stub. She’s high, undeniably so as she sighs with deep content. His hand on her thigh, stroking the warm skin there. “You know what I want to do?”

He hums, turns in his spot to face her. “I want to pick lilacs and daisies, weave them through our hair; smear nectar on our skin and tell the bees they’re welcome there.” She grins at him, giggles even when his face turns perplexed.

“Is that from your book?” She nods, reaches over to her book and flips through a certain page. “What more beautiful poems did you have in that beautiful brain of yours?”

“This is my favourite,” she admits, making him smile at her excitement. “” _ And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness _ .”” She turns, a lovely looped smile on her face. 

She’s forgotten what he had said this morning. At least she’s attempted. He’ll give her that. Now, they distract themselves with weed and books. A usual routine on their part anyways.

He eyes her down, face flushed and warm to the touch when he reaches to grip her chin. “ _ We had the stars, you and I. And this is given once _ .” He leans forward, closer than ever and his lips hover over hers. He can smell the weed on her breath, sweet but subtle as she gasps.

His other hand inches further up. He waits, stalls for what she wants him to do until she’s grown annoyed and irritated. “Kiss me.”

He leans closer, just nearly there. “You are high.”

She leans in, mouth parted, waiting. “So are you. Kiss me.”

And he does. They both do. Tastes like bitter berry, sour and tart on their tongue, she kisses him further in need of him. Dainty hands on the fabric of his shirt. This is it. What they’ve been circling around. They must be high, whether it be from the drug itself or from the feeling of each other. For sure, this is something one cannot forget.

However, the feeling of guilt rushed through him like a wave, hits him all at once and has him pulling away from her soft tender lips. 

A gasp. It falls so unexpectedly from her. He doesn’t blame her, he’s the one to have pulled away all of a sudden. 

She ducks her head, leans it against his shoulder in an attempt to catch her breath. A squeeze to her thigh, he pulls away and fixes her dress; pulls it back down. 

“We should prepare for dinner.” He suggests. He’s the first one to get up, with her following his lead after; hands intertwined while they follow into their home.

A grin on her flushed and swollen lips, she watches him from the couch. Heart leaping out of her chest in pure adoration.

He was right. They did have the stars. And the moon as well.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii, it’s me again! just checking how you guys are loving the story so far? i’m currently loving how the story is, angst and some action are soon to come!


	12. How to Never Stop Being Sad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ time has proven that fooling yourself into believing a lie is the most effective way to deal with things you have no control over” - how to never stop being sad

He awakens one morning with nothing but cold beside him. The spot where she’s supposed to lay is nothing but that. Empty. Cold from the fall weather. He jolts awake at her absence, makes his way around the lake house; finds nothing but emptiness from the both of them. 

He searches the garden, where her favourite flowers are watered everyday and loved by her. Nothing. Not a presence from her. Only silence and loneliness as she’s gone.

He panics, searches the house again and again until he’s grown tired. Sits by the couch, rubs his face in frustration as the fire crackles. He worries, a lot, where she might be right now.

It’s only till an hour and a half passes by that he hears her steps echo from behind the door. He jolts, watches her walk inside the lake house. She wears her leggings, the grey one, so he sees the red between her legs.

“Where have you been?” 

She passes by him, heads towards the kitchen. He follows, heavy on her trail with an angry scowl on his face. “A walk.”

He scoffs, shakes his head at her answer. So nonchalant about her absence. “You can’t just leave like that, Y/n. Are you crazy? You don’t know what’s out there. You could’ve gotten killed!”

“And you do? Do you think I don’t know that?” She snaps at him, turns heavy on her heel and yells words at his face. “You’re the one who decided to leave me! You left me, James. Left me alone here! I cried for you. I thought you died.” Her fists are hard against his chest as she punches him, sobs loud with her words. 

He points an accusing finger. “I did that to protect you. I did it for you. You almost died that day, or were you too busy to care because you’re too childish to give a damn.”

She freezes, lips shut in offence and eyes well up with tears. “I hate you.” With that, she’s off, runs back into their room and never leaves; even when he leaves her food outside.

  
  
  


They’re stuck inside one day, the storm outside is loud and hard as the rainfall hits their home. She hasn’t been out in the last two days, he sleeps on the couch. It’s comfortable but their bed is better. He'd rather have her sleep in their bed than him, if he’s being honest. 

She only sneaks out when he’s asleep. She doesn’t know it but he can hear her padded steps, the soft sniffles, and everything in between. That’s when she eats, snacks on whatever food he leaves out for her and returns back into her room to cry. He’s not dumb, he can hear the cries that happen when the lake house is quiet and isn’t filled with her melodic laughs.

She’s just moody, he assumed. She started her period that very two days ago when she came home that morning yelling and bleeding between her legs. He won’t blame her, anger got the best of him as well, worry and concern.

“Idiot.” He tells himself, rubs his face as he stares at the ceiling with no intention of doing anything soon. The rail fall is still loud outside, almost has him losing his thoughts.

But the loud sound of a door slamming catches his attention. Head snaps up to see her, arms crossed and a scowl on his face as she marches across the room and outside to the rainy weather. He jumps from his seat, follows her out till the door and yells her name. 

No response. She just keeps walking. He followers into the rain, clothes drenched under the cold rainfall.

“Get in, Y/n. You’re gonna get sick.”

He tried again. His voice stubborn and stern. She doesn’t give up. Continues walking towards their car until Bucky raises her voice at her. She turns, sees his face even in the dark of the night. 

“Why won’t you listen to me?” His tone is much softer, quieter and kinder. As if he had lost all hope.

Bucky can tell she’s been crying. Even in the dark, he can see the way her eyes are puffed, rimmed with red, and dry from her tears. She looks worn out. So sickly and dimmer than her brighter self. It makes him frown, to think of how sad she had been and he hasn’t noticed.

“I wanna disappear.” She admits, shoulder sag as she does so. “I feel… I feel so unwanted. So useless. Come with me, James.” She reaches out, cups Bucky’s cold face in the palm of her hands. “You and I can find peace. Find happiness with Steve and your friends. We can go home.”

She finds absolute fear in his eyes, baby blues turned red as anger rushes through him. He shakes his head, his own hands gripping her wrist to pull her away. “No! I won’t let you do that to yourself. You still have so many things you need to experience in this world. I promised to keep you safe, that’s what I’m doing.”

And he’s right. At least, to his own eyes he is. He’s experienced about every decade in his whole life, the war, finding love, happiness. He wants her to experience what she needs in her life. Even if it’s in a world like this. She deserves it. She deserves happiness just as much as he does. 

“I want you.” He admits, this time, cups her face in his. Presses his forehead against hers as she lets out a sob. “I want every bit of you. I want to give you the world, little one. I want nothing but happiness for you.”

Her arms wrap around him, tight as she cries into his chest; loud and trembling. “Let me take care of you.” He says, smoothes down her hair under the cold rain. She doesn’t reply, just shakes with cries that has him practically crying at the sound. So, he takes it to himself to take care of her. 

Carries her back home in his arms, sets her back by the fireplace to get her warm. He leaves for the slightest second, comes back with their quilt. He finds her sitting still, knees pressed to her chest, head ducked down. He frowns at the sight, sits in front of her and sighs.

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes a second but she gives in, looks up sadly with puffed eyes at him. Eyes red from crying and the rain.

“I don’t want you to do that yourself, ever. You have so much to live for. I have the world to give you, Y/n.” He grabs her chin, has his other hand caressing her cold cheek. Her eyes flutter close, a breathy sigh leaves her cold and sickly lips. Almost as if she were biting back a cry. 

“Kiss me.”

She looks at him, wide eyes. All filled with genuine want that takes him back. 

“Show me you mean it.”

She scoots forward, practically straddles his lap with no care in the world. That uncharted territory between them is gone, it’s been explored by stolen kisses and feedings under every moon; a hand on her thigh, every euphoric trip on weed. Every bit of it. They’ve had a taste and Bucky isn’t sure he’ll be able to stop himself if she gave him the chance.

“You said—”

“I don’t care, shut up.”

She shouldn’t be surprised, she’s the one who asked. And now, his lips are on hers. So sickly, so wet. Suddenly, the cold is nothing but a distraction now. His excitement present between her legs, has her rubbing herself against him in an effort to relieve herself.

“I want you.” She admits, snakes a hand between them and on his crotch; his pants a large tent. “I want all of you, James.”

He sucks in a breath, realizing what the nature of their actions are. She’s not well. She’s not in the right state of mind. He can’t and he wouldn’t, not like this. He wants to give her everything, give her what she wants right now. But not like this.

“No, we can’t.” He pushes her off, kindly at that and she frowns at him. Even it makes it harder than it needs to be. “Not like this.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He shakes his head, cups her head and presses his forehead against hers. Her cries return, they’re softer but they’re there and it pains him to hear them. 

“No, no. Just...it’s not your fault.” He tells her but it feels more of a reassurance to him. “The world is a lonely place. There is no one but us. I cannot blame you for something out of your control.” He caresses her cold skin, kisses her forehead before he pulls away. “Just sleep for tonight. We will deal with the consequences some other time.”

They sleep near the fireplace that night. Shares the quilt as the fire warms their cold skin. He watches her in slumber, cheek pressed against her arm as soft breaths escape from her parted mouth. 

He truly does want to give her everything. But would his everything be enough for her or will she find someplace else to find that?

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii! me again, this chapter is filled with more angst, some dark thoughts, really shows you the truth of how actually living in a post apocalyptic world can be :(( but i hope you guys enjoy this! this was a little harder to write since it’s angst and i’m not very good at it


	13. Cherry Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “the way she shows me i’m hers and she is mine  
> the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.” — cherry wine

She drives the car as if she were still surrounded by pedestrians and other vehicles. She’s cautious, unfamiliar, adjusting. It’s hard when there’s no more lanes you have to worry about, no more merging, or traffic lights to watch out for. It’s how she’s been taught, he doesn’t blame her. But instead smiles as she turns the blinkers out to make a right turn.

“What?” She turns to him slightly, a breathy chuckle leaving her sickly lip. He makes a mental effort to feed her more. She’s not as skinny as before when he found her; more meat on her bones, stomach more stout and pudgy. It’s not concerning, yet.

His smile turns into a wide grin that reaches his ear. “Nothing. You’re a very cautious driver.”

She grins, embarrassingly so as she realizes that she, in fact, is very cautious for driving in a place that rules no longer apply. “Oh, right. I guess there’s no need for the blinkers, huh?”

They arrive soon at one of the major towns up north, finds, to their luck, an actual ski store to look through for winter goods. It makes sense. This area is surrounded by mountains that for in the winter, tourists may come and go, up and down the ski lifts. 

She holds his hand on their way, has him lead the way until they arrive at the store. It’s empty, no surprise. She follows him to the main area, the jackets and whatnot and finds a body hanging by one of the pipes. She gags at the smell, so pungent and strong that she has to pinch her nose.

“C’mon. Let’s move along.” 

They continue to search, he finds a jacket, one for him, and another one for her. It’s not too warm but enough that she can probably layer his sweaters on her underneath. They search in the other aisle, finds another dead body oozing with blood. Bucky pauses, smells the pungent smell and realizes it’s still fresh and someone must’ve been here before them. 

She lets him drive back, taps a beat of a song on the leather handle of the steering wheels that makes her grin. He returns the gesture, holds her hand in his flesh one as he drives. 

They return to the lake house, settles in for a little bit and throw wood into the fire for warmth. She reads her book for the time being while Bucky does some chores; folds clothes, and cleans their bedroom. 

When it’s time for dinner and the sun has set beautifully on the horizon. Bucky starts dinner in the kitchen and she watches with a curious glance as he moves back and forth to the stove and counter. She makes her way to the kitchen, sits in one of the bar stools in front of the kitchen island and smiles at him as he works.

She takes in how he wears the red henley, her favourite. The one she always wears when he isn’t because she claims it’s warmer than her own. She remembers when she fought him over it, slurred words as she held the neck of the wine bottle while she whined at him.

The memory is a good one. One she likes to remember and think of often rather than the bad ones like their big fight and her depressive episode a week ago. They don’t like to talk about it even if they should but they don’t. 

“What’s that look on your face?” He asks, sends her back to reality. Has her peer up at him with a curving grin. 

“It’s just love.” His grin turns softer, smaller, and kinder. He pushes away from the counter, steps forward and closer to her. He doesn’t hesitate, not one bit of a second less as he pulls her face towards his and pressed the kindest kisses he’s ever given.

It’s quick, then he’s pulling away with a smile before he returns back to making dinner. With wet lips, she wipes away where he once was and returns to watching him.

  
  
  


He demanded to play a different game this week, so she pulls out an old chess board from the attic and sets up a game for the both of them. She decides to drink tonight. Pulls out one of the tequila John and Ophelia had in their stock and takes a sip while Bucky scratches his beard covered chin in thought.

It’s a quiet game. None of them have spoken a word since she brought the game down. She doesn’t mind, most of their first few weeks were spent in complete silence until they became more comfortable. However, she knew the topic both sat heavy in the air and on their tongue.

She also knew he wouldn’t be the one to bring it up, he never does. It’s always her. So what difference would it make this time if she did it again? 

He makes his next move, knocks over her pawn with his bishop. “Are we gonna ever talk about it?” She makes her next move, has her rook eat his bishop; however, she knew it was a losing move and so did Bucky.

He eyes her down, fingers tapping on the chess board. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Makes his next move, eats another pawn.

She shrugs, hugs herself closer and smells his shirt; the one she’s wearing. She finds his eyes on her, waiting for the next move and her answer. “I...I just think we’re lonely. It’s just and you me here. No one else. What more can we offer each other but company and attention?”

He knows he’ll regret saying it but he says it anyways. “Sex. Blood. Love.” Hears how her pulse throats loudly against her neck, the softest hitch in her breathing when he says those taboo words. “However, we can’t solve everything with sex and blood. I know what you are thinking, little one.”

A grin blossoms on his face, then moves his rook up. “Check mate.”

  
  


They prepare for bed early tonight. She’s quite tipsy so Bucky carries her back to their room and throws her some pyjamas. She has no care in the world as she peels off her clothes right in front of him. Basically naked in her underwear, she lazily slips on sweatpants and one of his sweaters he gave her. 

When they lay down for bed, they face the ceiling where beautiful swirls of colours adore them. John and Ophelia must’ve spent a handful of time on this as you can see every intricate stroke of their brush. 

It’s a few silent seconds before she speaks up. Tongue saturated in curious bliss. “Did you mean what you said by not wanting to disappoint me?” 

He lets out a breathy sigh, eyes pinched close as he thinks. “It was a lapse of judgment.” Did he really mean it? He wants to give her the world. He wants to give her happiness. Every bit of it. But doing that, is that what she want? He shakes that thought out of his head. “But if I did— If we did, would you want?”

She turns, stirs on her side and lays her head on her arm; peers at him in the dark moonlight and beams at the way he basically shines under the light. “I think I just want to be happy. Perhaps someday.”

He smiles, he doesn’t know why but he just does. “That’s enough for tonight. Get some rest.” He leans down, kisses her gently on the lips before pressing on her nose which makes her chuckle. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

She snuggles into his chest, wraps her arms around his waist and makes herself comfortable. The alcohol settles in, swirls warmly in her stomach and has her heating up. She’s comfortable with him, that’s all that matters. 

  
  
  


He’s awoken for the first time in weeks. He stirs quietly, head turns around and finds the spot beside him cold and empty. He jolts, concern washes over him like that night a week ago. But he finds the bathroom door open, cracked the slightest that the light seeps into the bedroom.

He hears her coughing, they’re soft almost muffled and gets up and pads his way over to where she is; hunched over the toilet, gagging and coughing as she vomits her dinner into the porcelain bowl. 

He rushes towards her, lays a rubbing hand on her back to soothe whatever she’s pain she’s probably in. When she calm down, heaves and lays her head on her arm, she lets out a soft cry. “It hurts.” She pouts, wipes the tears with the back of her hands. 

“What hurts, petal?” He sweeps the fallen tendrils off her face, gets a look at her sunken face. He frowns at the sight of her. She was doing so well, what had gone wrong? 

“It’s never this bad. Not even back then but the cramps are excruciatingly painful.” She clutches her stomach, groans loudly when she feels another clench that feels like a thousand stab wounds. “I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

He hushes her, shakes his head. “No, you should've woken me up. I was worried when you weren’t beside me.”

A forced chuckles falls from her lips, she gives him the saddest smile. “You know I wouldn’t do that again.”

He rolls his eyes, playfully before getting the go ahead to bring her back to bed. She curls up in a ball, clutches her stomach and groans. “It still hurts?” She nods, eyes well up with tears. “Well, you know, my Ma told me there were some remedies for those kinds of cramps.” She beams up at the statement. “Yeah, however there is one that I know girls told me helps the most.”

He runs his fingers through her hair, attempts to soothe her down for bed. “Really?” She asks, voice filled with curiosity. He nods, hums even. “What is it? Can you help me? I hate these stupid cramps.”

“It’s sex, my dear.” He chuckles at this, finds the way she lets out the smallest of an _oh_ at his answer. 

“You’ve had… while on their..? Isn’t that dirty?”

He nods, grins at her sense of curiosity. He doesn’t blame her, it’s her first with a vampire; a blood leaching creature. Not everyone has that unfortunate opportunity to live with one. “It’s natural. You can always clean them up. Would you like me to show you?”

She searches for any kind of humour in his eyes but finds nothing but pure sincerity, as if he were truly serious. “If it helps, then why not.” An unstoppable smile blossoms, has Bucky reciprocating the beauty gesture on her beautiful face. 

“I’ll be nothing but kind.” He says, caresses the soft skin of her flushed cheek under the bare moonlight. She nods, let’s him kiss her on the lips like he hasn’t done before. Silk, soft, all what heaven could and should feel like. He doesn’t linger too long, kisses down her neck, her pulse, before he kneels between her parted legs. 

He peels off her sweatpants, slowly that he’s sure that it’ll leave her squirming. “James…” He shakes his head, reaches up and holds the hand that sits on her stout stomach. 

“Just relax. I’ve got you.” Comes next her underwear, the tuft of unkempt hair on her pubic bone show themselves. He doesn’t care as he takes his very precious time as he kisses the skin inside her thigh. He holds the string between his forefinger and thumb, tugs it free and he hears the faintest of a gasp come from her. 

He takes the smallest lick, strides up her slit with the taste of sweet euphoria sitting heavy on his tongue. Her breath becomes heavy, shallow even when his free hand pulls at the skin of her pubic bone to reveal that swollen little pearl.

He hears chains of profanity fall from her honey slick lips, grins when he realizes he’d have to teach her about using inappropriate language. 

She remembers this, the way he sucked and licked her like she were nothing but a mere lollipop in a stranger’s mouth. That very same fateful night when he had returned from his journey, sat comfortably between her legs and fed from the veins of her thighs. 

Much like this, instead, he’s feeding between her core. So deliciously sweet. She worries she isn’t all that, of course, she’s never had a creature like him feed so gracefully between her thighs as if she weren’t bleeding down there.

She gasps when he sucks harder, stirs that storm in the depths of her stomach that lets her know she’s gonna cum. “James…” She stirs in her spot, has her hips buck against his face which has him moaning and sending her a glare. 

He takes his hand, has a finger swirl between her core and saturates it in her arousal before he pushes in. She groans loudly, tightens her hold on his hand ty even more. “It’s alright, baby. You can let go.” She heaves at the pet name, all so many things happening at once that she just breaks. She just lets go, just like he said.

With a cry, she feels his mouth. So full and so loud as she arches her back in pure bliss. If anyone could see them right now, it’d be a sight to see. “That’s it, honey. Let it go.”

She heaves loudly, her arm falling limp over her face. Bucky sighs, presses his cheek against her inner thigh. There’s a pregnant pause, silence before Bucky wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and lays back beside her. They lay quietly together, making Y/n stir in her spot and turn to face her companion’s attention.

“And that’s suppose to be better than sex?” She grins at him, basically snuggles further into his chest as she rubs her slick thighs together. 

He hums at this, has his eyes flutter close in euphoria; despite the raging tent he’s housing in his pants. “It can be.” He says, fingers the pearl necklace she claims as her own. “Does it feel better?” She nods at this, her fingers dancing along up his thighs until he stops her by the wrist. “We can’t always use sex and blood to solve things, don’t forget that.”

She sighs, basically has to bite her tongue from punching back a rebuttal at his words because even though she knew he was right, she didn’t like it. “Get some rest, honey. We’ve had a long night.” He gives her a kind smile before leaning over to press a kiss on her forehead. She does nothing but smiles, cuddles further in his arms before slumber washes over them.

  
  



	14. This Side of Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “our fingers dancing when they meet,  
> you seem so lonely,  
> i'll be the only dream you seek,  
> so if you're lonely, no need to show me,  
> if you're lonely come be lonely with me.”   
> — this side of paradise

The engine roars to a halt as he pulls the shift to park, the car sits still in front of the abandoned pharmacy. Bucky turns to her, nods towards the door and they exit. He leads the way as always, with her on his tail with careful attention. 

When they arrive inside, he turns to her with a look. “You know the drill. Look around, grab whatever you can and come back here, ‘kay?” She nods at the instructions and soon enough, they’re parting ways.

She heads towards the hair products, looks for any shampoo and conditioner bottles still remaining. She finds some, to her luck, they’re coconut scented. Inside she’s squealing in excitement. She continues to search, finds most of the area pretty ransacked. She does find a couple of soap bars, thinks of how Bucky and her will finally get a good clean.

Still, again, most of the shelves are nothing but empty. She finds another bottle of nail polish though, emerald green sitting idly and lonely by itself. She snatches it without hesitation. When she turns around the corner and finds a few boxes of tampons, she rushes with excitement towards the feminine products and shoves it selfishly inside her bag.

“Found something good?” Bucky’s voice catches her attention and she peers up at him with a grin and a nod. He eyes her attempting to put the boxes in her bag, he told her to bring the bigger one, she didn’t and now she’s struggling to fit everything in. 

“I can’t always have you as a remedy every month.”

He irks a brow at her, lips turning up to the slightest bit of a grin on his face. He reaches out for her, a hand over hers to tell her to stop her attempts. “Put it back.” His grin widens to his ear when he hears the hitch in her breath. “C’mon. Look what I found in the back stock.”

He shows her the bottle of lotion in one hand. A box of tissues in the other. She already makes a face of realization when it hits her and her face contorts in disgust. “Oh, no.”

“Yup.” He pulls out the magazine from his bag, an old Playboy from three years ago. The cover plastered with a photo of a brunette, bare in nothing but the iconic lacey Playboy lingerie. “Seems that pharmacists have more free time on their hands than we thought.”

She reaches for it, gawks at the photo of the woman. Almost feels conscious of how perfect this woman is in nothing but underwear. When she, well, she has lumps and marks everywhere. A stout tummy, pudgy and protruding out. Even when she wears one of the most beautiful silk nighties from Ophelia’s collection. She knows she’s beautiful, in a way she is, but not how the papers would perceive beauty.

She huffs at the photo, throws it back on the shelves and parts her mouth to punch back a rebuttal. But he’s got a hand over her mouth before any noise can come out, and presses her against the shelf, eyes her down to reassure her that she’s fine. He pulls away, still keeps a close distance to her just in case. With a finger to his lips, he tells her to keep quiet and mouths, “I hear someone.”

He nods over, holds her hand as he leads the way. Their steps are careful, calculated, and minuscule at the most as to not draw any attention to whatever creature it may be. Bucky has a hand on the knife settled in between his pants, ready for whatever he may have to fight.

“Don’t shoot! Please, I don’t have anything on me!” Bucky irks a brow at the voice, it sounds small, but masculine with a prepubescent tone. 

He lets go of Y/n’s hand, tells her with a look to stay still so he can go check it out. He watches her stay still, the look of fear crosses her eyes. But then he’s off, checks the front of the pharmacy to see a.. boy? He looks nearly Y/n’s age, maybe even slightly younger by two or three years but nearly the same. He’s just as sickly and skinny as he saw Y/n for the first time.

“Keep your hands up.” The boy does what he’s told, in seconds keeps his hands up with shaking arms. “Take your jacket off and roll your sleeves up.” When he does that, Bucky nears the boy with a cautious step.

While Y/n watches her companion frisk the teenager for any weapons, assess him for any bite marks just in case. “Just you, huh? So, I guess no one will miss you when I slit your throat—”

Her face pinches at his words, nearly forgetting that the man she’s living with is the same one parents tell scary stories about to their children. She rushes to his aid, pulls him back away from the child. “Stop it. He’s just a kid, James.”

His face turns from the same man who held her close on night she couldn’t sleep to the same one where as if she were nothing but a threat to him as well. “You don’t know him or what he could do.”

“And neither do you. He’s just a kid. He gave himself up the moment he found out that we were here. He doesn’t even have anything on him. You can’t just kill everyone you come across.”

Bucky stares at her, blankly ahead as his face turns cold and stern. He hates that she’s right and that he knows he’s been a little rough lately. The last kill was back at the gas station with that father and daughter duo. He did what he did for the reason that they were an obvious threat to them. This kid is not. At least not now.

But she's right either way. And he hates it. So much. The fact that she’s just as challenging as him. Steve would’ve laughed at him, told him that he’s finally met his own demise. He pushes the thought of his Steve out right now and decides that for her sake, he’ll keep this kid safe. 

“Fine.” He huffs but turns sharply on his feel to growl at the boy, a finger pointing accusingly. “But if you ever lay a hand on her, so help me God, she better not be there when I rip your limbs to shreds.”

Y/n huffs, chooses not to hear what he says and pulls on his arm. “Stop it and let’s go home.” She eyes the boy in front of them, his scruffy brown locks tangled and knotted, he’s a mess. All filth on his clothes and his face. 

Bucky pulls away, too fast for her liking as he scoffs and leads the way back to the car. She sits in the front, the boy takes the one in the back. On the way back, she stirs in her seat, turns to Bucky with a careful eye. He ignores her attention, grips the wheel tighter in an effort to suppress his anger. 

So, she turns to the other brunette sitting behind her. Beams at him with a friendly smile. “So, what’s your name?”

“Peter, ma’am.”

She warmths at the name,  _ what a silly little boy _ , she thinks. Still considers her someone to respect despite being a couple years older. “So, why’re you out here all alone? It’s like what? A couple hundred miles to the nearest city.”

“Actually, it’s only a few ten. Came from a sanctuary a little out of here. I was sent out for a small grab and go but got lost on the way back home.” Bucky finds Peter’s eyes in the viewfinder, his brows furrowed together still in anger and doubt.

He speaks, hesitation evident in his tone. “There’s more of you?” Peter nods. Then he turns to Y/n, sends her a look that has him saying that he told her so. She rather ignores him, rolls her eyes and settles back into her seat with a huff.

“I wish you trusted me more.” It comes out as a mumble, a whisper from her lips even though she’s fully aware he can hear every word and every intake of air. 

He eyes her, that stern and cold facade falling soft from his face. He hates how he makes her feel like that but it’s the way he feels the need to protect her.

  
  
  
  


They return back to the lake house, deciding that it’s better if they have a bigger space for the three of them. She’s nothing but kind to Peter. Feeds him an ample amount of food which he downs in seconds. Bucky keeps to himself in their room, only coming out when chores need to be done.

They settle in when nightfalls. Spend a little bit of the night in the living room, the fireplace crackling with life while Peter poked around the wood. She sits beside him, her head buried deeply in a book while Bucky bathes.

“Hey, before I settle in. I just wanted to thank you and your boyfriend for being kind to take me in.” Peter beams at her with a smile, a kind one at that. 

She greets him back with a shrug. “He's nice when I ask him too. He’s only mad because you remind him of me. That same girl he found a year ago who was just as sickly as you were. You’re nothing but harmless to us, Peter. Don’t worry about it. Have a goodnight to yourself.”

The boy nods at this, waves her a goodbye as he makes his way up the flight of stairs to the guest bedroom. She smiles at that and she, too, makes her way to their bedroom. The light creeps under the bathroom door and into the dark room, he must be still inside, finishing up just as he should. 

She decides he needs privacy. So, she turns swiftly on her heel, nearly there to step out of the room when she hears the click of the knob turn. “Going to sleep early, I see?” He teases, she hears the smirk he’s probably sporting on his face.

When she turns promptly, hands on her hips with a cheeky grin on her lips, she eyes the cascading water down his bare torso. Toned abs slick with water, clean and fresh. “After the day, we’ve had, it’s only fair.”

Stepping towards her, he has a brow irked. His steps stopping nearly inches in front of her. With a finger under her chin, so futile, so gentle, he lifts her head up. 

“You get to bed, Моя любовь.”

A smile blossoms on her face, a wave of confidence sparking her interest and has her stepping on tippy toes to melt her lips against his. Cold skin pressed against warm ones, she kisses him all slick and wet, so messy and so unknowing. He won’t blame her though, she’s said it herself, not much experience back then; even more so now.

She’s even the one who pulls abruptly, takes him by surprise at the most with a slight gasp leaving his parted mouth. 

And with a voice below a whisper, barely audible if not for his hearing, she says, “ _ I’ll be waiting _ .”

  
  
  
  


He finds her, just as she promised to him with a stolen kiss, on the bed patiently waiting with a book in her hands. He crawls into bed, lays beside her with a bounce.

“Sorry for what happened today.” He says, plays with the string of her pyjamas pants. She eyes him from the corner of her eye, hiding away behind her book. “It’s a dangerous world, my dear. I can’t take the risks.”

She sighs, deep from her stomach as she sets her book down and looks at him. A soft look in his eyes, no more anger, no more scowling, just him. Just her James. 

“But you took the risk for me. We have to do the same for him.” She reaches for his face, cold and pale under the moonlight. A  _ tsk _ to scold him, knowing that he knew better than to starve himself. “You are a stubborn man, James Barnes. You need to feed.”

He rolls his eyes, attempts to distract her by kissing her swollen knuckles. “I’ve fed on a hare this morning.”

“And we both know that isn’t enough.” She gives him a raised brow. “Stop being afraid. You’re anything but a threat to me. Feed. You need it.” She sweeps the hair from her shoulder, revealing her bare neck for him to feed on.

He keeps his eyes on hers, keeps them there, still and frozen. He’s hesitant, of course, he is. He always is and she despises him for it. “James…”

“Just… Shh.” With a hand snaked around her neck, he pulls her close, flush against him with lips against each other. Just like he always imagined, she’s just as sweet as before, just as fragile as the day he met her. 

He gets a taste, the sweetest of her on her tongue before he pulls away and trickles down her jaw. Teasing and nipping at her skin. “Do it. I’ll be fine.” She tells him, pinches her eyes close at the anticipation. She always hates that part, the waiting. 

Luckily, he’s just as quick and efficient as he is tonight. His teeth slipping out and into her fragile skin, rips so easily that luckily for her, she won’t feel anything but a pinch. He nudges her legs open, settles his thigh between her core and presses softly; and just like that, he pulls the most delicate gasp from her mouth.

“Oh….” With thimble fingers, she tugs on the roots of his caramel locks. A silent indication. He loves this. He loves her, just every bit of her and him. So perfectly made, he wonders if this is it. Wonders if he could die in any moment with her, he wouldn’t mind.

Because just like that, he knows she’s everything. She’s the sweetest creature he’s found. Centuries after centuries, she’s the one.

“James…”

He pulls away the slightest, only to reassure her what she’s feeling beneath him is fine. Then he returns back to her, lapping every sweet honey that drips from her pulse like a man starved for years.

He makes sure to keep a hand over her mouth when she becomes too restless, too loud for their own sake that Peter may hear. Her breathing becomes muffled, she doesn’t care, she only cares about her release; especially when Bucky pressed further up against her and she moans loudly, even more against his hand.

He joins her soon enough, right after he laps her wound up but still manages to spill some down her chest. “That’s it, love. Let go for me.”

All of a mess, he releases in his pants, causing nothing but a slick and sodden mess in his pants just as she does in her underwear. Loud groans, much to their demise, fill the empty cold room, every bit of it lost in both of their pleasure as they reel in their post orgasmic gaze. 

He’s the first to break the ice, that silence sitting heavy between them after every encounter such as this. 

“Don’t say it.” 

She lets the faintest of a chuckle leave her lips, her next move has her licking her thumb in an effort to rub the leftovers of her on his lips. “I won’t because deep inside, you already know it.”

He eyes the smile on her beautiful face. It has him reciprocating the same gesture. “I’ve made such a mess outta you.”

She pecks his lip, giggling against it. “That you have done.” When she pulls away, she finds him staring at her kindly. Eyes so tender under the light, really puts into true perspective how one creature could be so beautiful. She irks a brow at him, curious to his wandering gaze. “What’s that look on your face?”

  
  


A pause. The longest one between them as he sweeps the tendrils of hair away from her face. 

“It’s just love.”

“It’s a good look on you.”

Bucky’s sure he hasn’t trusted anyone more than this. The smile that beams on his face tells him so and so does the way his heart beats out of his chest. Luckily for him, she can’t tell the way his breathing picks up when she touches him again. A kiss on his lips before she greets him a goodnight and settles in bed.

He watches her turn to the slumber, gives him time to cleanse himself of the night they’ve had in the bathroom before he too settles in beside her. 

He can get used to this.

  
  



	15. Getaway Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “there were sirens in the beat of your heart,  
> should've known i'd be the first to leave,  
> think about the place where you first met me.” — getaway car

Wilting roses, a sign that winter must be coming, she begins to prepare them for the vases at home; snipping and cutting as she does so while Peter tends to do chores with Bucky.

Luckily, the brunettes have grown accustomed to each other’s presence in the span of the weeks he’s been with them. He's been set with his own chores, he does the morning daily, prepares the food from the garden, collects the water from the lake, then waters the wilting roses.

She hears padded steps, turns on her heel and catches Bucky stepping towards her with a wicker basket in his arms. She smiles at him, reaches for the basket and he gifts it to her. “For your roses.”

She nods at this. “Thank you. I’ll be inside in a few.” 

“Be quick. I’m making spaghetti for lunch.” He steps forward, tilts her head up and presses the softest kiss on her nose. “Your favourite.”

With a hum and a nod, she peers up at him with a smile. “Of course. Now get back to Peter. I’m sure he’s already having as much as trouble with cleaning the fireplace.” He rolls his eyes at this then sends her a goodbye.

She returns to work, cutting dead wilting roses, cutting healthy ones for a personal treat to herself. A song humming from her lips, busy and distracted that she pricks herself on a loose thorne. A hiss escaping her when she sees the blood pooling at the tip of her finger. She does what she’s always done, shoves the finger in her mouth till the bleeding stops.

A few minutes pass, she returns her attention on her flowers until the sound of crunching leaves catches her attention. She knows who it is, practically rolls her eyes knowing that he probably came out because he smelt her from inside; certain that there will be nothing but concern written all over his face.

However, when she turns, a grin on her face, she’s faced with an unfamiliar man in her garden. Dressed in casual clothes, the gun in his hand contrasting his kind aura, he eyes her down just as she does to him. Her brows furrowed, confusion written all over her face. 

She wants to yell for Bucky, however, it’s too late. She hears the faintest of a shot, then feels a pinch to her shoulder. It feels small, like a bee sting. Just like that, the man becomes nothing but darkness. She hopes, anything and or anyone, finds her.

She’s certain her James will.

  
  
  
  


He doesn’t notice until the clock ticks too loudly in his ear. Peter has finished his set of chores for the day and decided to make himself a sandwich. Bucky doesn’t mind, he’s a good kid anyways, just as he came to learn over the weeks.

However, he stacks the shelves with dozens of books from her collection, he becomes suspicious of his lover’s presence. It’s been an hour. Too long for anyone to simply just cut a few dozen roses.

He turns to Peter, senses that she’s probably just doing some other thing in the garden. “Hey, kid. Do me a favour and call in Y/n. Tell her it’s time for lunch.”

Peter jolts in his seat, jumps off and nods. “Sure thing, sir.” Bucky grimaces at the name. He hates being called that, makes him feel… out of place, too old. He doesn’t mind the mistake, even if he reassures Peter to call him Bucky as James is a special name only Y/n gets to call him.

As Peter licks the peanut butter off his fingers and wipes the residue on his pants, he makes his way over to the garden in the back of the lake house. It’s a beautiful garden, really. Compared back at the Facility, this was more personal. More like her. 

And as he whistles for his companion and friend, he’s faced with her unconscious on the ground; his eyes finding dead roses on the floor next to her just as a man stands over her, hopefully, breathing body. 

His breath shakes, eyes glued to the gun in the man’s hands. “Sam?”

The dark skinned man turns, his eyes just as wide as the boy in front of him is. His gun falling to his side just as he realizes who’s in front of him. He rushes over to him, engulfs him in a hug that takes Peter by surprise. “Hey, kid! Jesus, we’ve been looking for you for weeks.”

But he shakes his head, pushes away from his embrace and looks at him with a mean scowl. “You can‘t be here. He’s going to kill you for what you did to Y/n.”

Sam’s brows furrow, his head turning to where the frail girl lays on the ground. “Oh, her. She’s not dead. She’ll be awake in a couple hours. Didn’t want to make too much noise. Now, c’mon. Clint’s scouting the area. I’ve gotta tell him I’ve—”

Peter steps away, almost disgusted with his own friend. With a scoff and a shake of his head, he rushes over to her, lifting her head up from the filthy ground to assess her of any wounds. “I’m not leaving. Not like this.”

A scoff. “Psh. You’re staying over some girl? C’mon, Peter, we taught you better than to get attached.”

He opens his mouth to punch a rebuttal, ready to yell at the man who practically raised him with Tony after Aunt May died. However, he’s beaten to it by someone bigger and much angrier.

“What the hell is going on?” The men turn, facing an angry Bucky with the meanest scowl on his face. But that soon turns to rage the moment his eyes fall down to the limp body in Peter’s arms. Her hair falling from the braids he helplessly did for her that morning.

Then he eyes the man in front of him; so many emotions. All at once coming to him like a boulder. His lover on the floor but his old pal standing in front of him. 

A knowing grin blossoms on Sam’s face. His brow arching with surprise. “Well, what do we have here.”

  
  
  


He paces around the room, back and forth. Back and forth. He’s sure he’s done this a million times, he doesn’t care, she hasn’t woken up yet and that’s all that matters to him. He doesn’t care about the prying eyes of his past friends, watching him helplessly pace around the room like some sickly beaten puppy.

Sam rolls his eyes at this, chugs the coffee that sat on the coffee table. He takes a good look around the house, can tell they’ve been here longer that he would’ve thought. At least, Bucky has. He’s sure that Peter joined them a few weeks ago when he had gone missing, he’s simply an add on to their lives. That he’s sure of.

Clint looks at Sam, a defeated look on his face as he watches his friend worry about the girl gone unconscious. “Dude, she’s gonna wake up. Give it an hour or two.”

Bucky charges towards Sam, presses him up against the orange coloured walls and growls. A perfect picture of a predator, inches away from ripping away its prey. Sam knows, with a simple snap of his neck he’s gone. He knows what he’s capable of. So does Clint.

“You ever lay a finger on her again and you’re going home in a bucket. Got it, Birdbrain?”

He eyes the man. Suppresses the grin that threatens to appear on his face. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Eventually, she does stir awake. His attention returns to no one but her as he rushes to her side. A hand careful under her head as he helps her up. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He smoothes her hair away from her face, tucks it swiftly behind her ear as her eyes flutter open.

Her hand carefully intertwined with his as he holds her in his arms, aware but careless of the prying eyes of the visitors in their home. “I saw someone, James. They were in the—” She turns around, eyes wide when she catches her attacker standing in the middle of her living room watching her every move. “James… That's…”

“We came here for Peter. You were nothing but a distraction so I took care of it.” 

He sends the man a glare, the meanest yet, that to some mortals, would scare them, not to Sam. He’s been through this many times to properly care. Even if he’s scolded. “Watch your mouth, Wilson.”

“Like I was saying. We came for Peter. The Facility is looking for him. And so is Steve.” Bucky freezes at the name, so ever still that he feels like a statue. Frozen in time, just as he was in HYDRA. 

He takes the moment to regain himself, swallows down to relieve his dry throat. “ _ Steve _ ?” He asks, almost not wanting to believe what he's heard. As if he’s heard it wrong and perhaps he heard a different name. But the nod Sam gives him tells all too different. 

“Steve. Nat. Tony. They’re all there. We found each other not too long ago. Built something new for us. A new home.” 

Peter’s face beams with an idea as he jolts up from his seat. Everyone watches with curious eyes as the boy jumps. “You can come with us, Y/n. You too, Mister Barnes. Join our community. They would love you guys.”

She turns to Bucky, his eyes never lingering too long on Peter as he looks away; at Sam, at Clint, then her. His eyes stay. Just at her and those baby blues say it all too well. He wants to go. He wants to see Steve. Nat. Tony. Whoever the hell those people are. He wants them just as much as he wants her.

But his gaze leaves, returning them to Sam who waits for his next move. She’s almost certain she’s not prepared to hear what his answer is. Nevertheless, she’ll stick with him. Through and through. Every full moon. Every dark night. Centuries if she could. She’s his just as much as he is hers.

“Give us the day to think. You can leave the morning after, with us or not. We need to think about it.”

  
  
  
  
  


They settle in the guest room for the night. Peter takes the bed. Sam and Clint on the floor. Rightfully, they take the master bedroom, just as always. 

She changes into something warmer, sweats and his shirt. He prefers to strip to his boxers, claiming the cold doesn’t bother him anyways. She likes to claim different as she always finds him cuddled up against her.

When they settle under the quilt, heavy and soft under their tired bodies, their eyes find each other when they turn. She finds his face pale and sickly, so concerning if she weren’t aware of the fact that he were this creature. 

“Are you going to tell me how you know the man who shot me in the shoulder with a tranquilizer?” Her fingers fiddle with themselves as she asks the question. She knows he’s not big on the personal questions, but she knows more than he intended to lead on no thanks to the school textbooks.

She catches the way a sigh leaves his lips. He practically avoids her curious gaze when he lays on his back. “They’re an old friend from the past. Nearly killed him when I was…”

She makes a face of realization. Smiles just as well when she lays back. She thinks. A lot for the couple of seconds that pass between them. Almost let’s a chuckle fall when she realizes how naive and stupid could she had been thinking that they would stay here in their little world forever.

“I know you’re thinking. What’s on your mind?” He asks, a question far too familiar between them that held an answer he always knew. 

When she turns on her side and finds his eyes lingering on her, a loud sigh falls. It mixed with everything but delight. “Just you…” He thinks that’s the end of it, he knows there’s more to that. “...I know you want to leave. You want to see Steve.”

He almost feels ashamed to admit that he does. He loves everything here. Everything about her. But he’s out there. His pal. His… Just out there. And while he’s built a life with her, a beautiful one, that he won’t deny but flaunt, there’s so much more to these houses and a lake. A community. Just as Sam and Peter promised.

But could he promise a happy life for her just as they had here?

He turns, knowing he shouldn’t have, when he sees the gloss in her eyes as she stares at him. “We’ve been given the chance to a better place, would you?” He wants to touch her, place a reassuring hand on her cheek. However, he’s not sure what he would reassure her of. He can give her the world, that he wants, but empty promises, he can’t. He wouldn’t do that to her.

A shrug answers him. Then a shake of her head that causes the tears that edge on her eyes to fall; streak so carefully down her cheek. “I don’t know.” She finally chuckles, let’s it out with a smile. So complex, such wonder as he watches her. “We’ve made a beautiful life here. There’s nothing that could replace it. But the world is a beautiful and wonderful thing. Filled with things I still have yet to see.”

And it’s true. He’s seen every bit of what it has to offer. For centuries, he’s experienced love, he’s experienced life. Every bit of it. He wants to give it to her. He wants her to live a fulfilling life. He wants to share a lake house just as John and Ophelia did. Share the quilt under the warmth of the crackling fire. Every single winter night; tangle between sheets. Just simply living in pure bliss.

He also knows that there’s no certainty in that life, only a fleeting cause, coming and going between them. It’s the truth of the reality they live in. He cannot deny her of that as it’s her birth right to know. 

He nods at her words. Bites back a response that he believes might upset her further. And he would kill himself if he would ever do that again. 

“But I also know you. I couldn’t do that to you no matter how much I love our home. I cannot be selfish in a time like this.”

He smiles at this, thinks of nothing but goodness with his heart. He even eyes the gold necklace that has done nothing but sat on her neck ever since he’s met her. Always a reminder of their meeting, a reminder of who she is. She never seems to take it off, attached greatly to the thing. 

He doesn’t blame her. She’s a beautiful creature, even under every full moon. 

“You’re a kind thing, sweetheart.”

She lets a breathy sigh, sinks further into the bed while she peers up at the ceiling. A lustful thought runs through her head.

“If only you let me return the favour.” She licks her lips, bites it in another thought. “But I suppose we cannot fix everything with blood and sex.”

He watches her eyes flutter close, let’s the tears run from the corner of her eyes to her cheeks. She’s a sad little thing if it weren’t for him. He hates that thought. Wishes he could take all that sadness, bottle it all up and throw it far where she would never see it again. 

He can’t. So, they must compromise.

“Can we stay a few days before we leave? A day or two here, another at the cabin?” She opens her eyes, peers at him for his answer. And when she’s greeted with a smile and a nod, it has her heart flutter at the sight.

Especially more when he reaches out for her, fingers the gold necklace that sits on her neck. “Get some rest. We have had a hell of a day.”

And that, they can agree on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback or any notes are greatly appreciated! thank you all for reading and continuing to read <33


	16. Fine Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “test of my patience  
> there's things that we'll never know  
> you sunshine, you temptress  
> my hand's at risk, i fold  
> crisp trepidation  
> i'll try to shake this soon  
> spreading you open  
> is the only way of knowing you.”  
> — fine line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has explicit smut, just a little warning since i don’t put specific content warnings for each chapter; i will for this one just in case.

The sun rises with a peak, beautiful, warm, and radiant just as the way she stretches beside him. His oversized sweatshirt pulling up with a glimpse of her navel, makes him bat his eyes in an effort to give her privacy. 

She greets him with a smile but then she’s off. Spends a minute or two in the bathroom before she prepares breakfast for all of their guests. A peanut butter sandwich for Peter, just his favourite. Old leftovers for Clint and Sam.

They spend their morning together, eating in peace until Sam’s the first one to jolt in his seat. His bags ready just as Clint and Peter are.

He finds the brunette’s baby blues, shares a look with the two of them; a silent goodbye, their ego too big for their own good to actually say the word. Perhaps it’s that, or the helpful reassurance that there’s a possibility that they may see each other again. Either way, they don’t say it. 

But Peter does. Turns to the girl who’s nothing but been practically a sister to him. They say their goodbyes, they’re short and just as meaningful if it were long.

She reassures him that they’ll meet again. Perhaps in this life or another one, but there’s nothing she’s sure of that’ll get her hopes down.

  
  
  
  
  


He finds her by the fireplace, crouched down with knees pressed against her chest while the fire crackles alive. He frowns at the sight. What a beautiful sad creature, he thinks. He suppose that he’ll have a lifetime to make this moment up to her.

For now, he’ll sit by her side, an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. His sickly lips are pressed against her temple, a soft inhale of her shampoo has him sighing. “It’s just us now, my dear.”

Her eyes pinches in sadness, salty tears prick her vision, she chooses to ignore the sting in her heart. Ignores the idea that in a few days, all of this might be gone. “I’m glad.” Is all she manages to say, breathily and shakily. 

“What would you like to do, today?” He sweeps the tendrils of hair out of her face, gets him a good look of that beautiful creature in front of him. His own resolve breaking at the sad sight of her. “Anything… We’ll do it.”

It’s a promise he intends to keep. Nothing of empty promises of such sort, not with her. He would never do that, not ever. Not even if he were the Soldier. 

And when she smiles, claws at the fallen tears on her puffed cheeks, she’s made a decision.

  
  
  
  


It’s a stroke of luck that it’s a warm day. One of the many unusual weathers of fall. After a bath together, his fingers rubbing her scalp to rid of the filth, he made sure to dry her before dressing her in her favourite pair of pyjamas. One of the many sweaters of his that he shares with her and a fleece sweat pant. 

  
  


She’s just as adorable when she wears one of Ophelia’s nighties. 

She’s sat comfortably on the grass, her nose is curiously buried in another book she’s attempting to finish. One from her personal collection, the author is a Russian poet. Most of the words, she’s able to read, struggles when there’s broken english but attempts anyways.

While her sweet companion tugs softly on her hair, never too harsh nor too soft for the hairs to fall; he twists and braids intricate designs into her locks. Complimenting every twist with a stolen flower from her bushes, the blooming roses and daisies sit beautifully on her head.

He smiles when the sun greets them once again for the day. A radiant shine above them, warmth seeps through their skin. A sigh from her. Another from him. 

“What’re you reading, sweetheart?” He asks, distracts himself from intrusive thoughts of their last few days here. 

He hates his mind sometimes. Makes him wonder how he truly survived centuries alone. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime without her now. Nor would he even dare to.

She lifts her book, shows him a glimpse of the page she’s reading then turns to another. “Alexander Pushkin. He’s Russian. Though he has some poems in English, this one isn’t.” He watches her point at a page, sees a Russian poem scribbled onto the page. “Do you know what it says?”

He eyes the writing, reads the words that cause a smile to blossom on his lips. She takes note of his reaction, has her brows furrowed in confusion and curiosity. “What does it say?”

She’s tugging on his pants, pulls him out of his reverie and turns to her with a grin. He finishes the last bit of hair, twists it with one final braid then ties it off with the band that sits around his wrist. 

“ _I loved you; even now I must confess_.” He swallows deep, feels his own heart beat rather loudly out of his chest just the way hers begins. “ _Some embers of my love their fire retain; But do not let it cause you more distress. I do not want to sadden you again._ ”

He finds her eyes peering up at him, book clutched between her thimble fingers; tight and secure. Just as the way he loves her dearly.

“ _Hopeless and tongue tied, yet I loved you dearly. With pangs the jealous and the timid know; So tenderly I love you, so sincerely, I pray God grant another love you so._ ” 

So fragile. So virtuous. She stares at him with nothing but adoration in her eyes. He returns the same gesture, his heart swells just as the way the poem beautifully describes it so. 

His metal hand reaches for her, cups her face the way he would his flesh. Not once does she flinch, not even with the way the metal is cold within the air. She accepts it. Every bit of him. Every perfection he deems a flaw, she kisses it. Every scar he fails to hide, she loves it.

Just as the way he loves her when she blesses him with a kiss. Dry, imperfect, but careless, he kisses back. Ignores the way the grass tickles his bare feet when she presses against him. Ignores everything even when she’s atop of him in the middle of their garden.

She’s everything he sought out to be. Kind, beautiful, and gentle. When he kisses her back, tongue and all, he’s sure to get a laugh at the way she jolts back with a pleasant moan falling from her swollen kissed-lips. 

They never want to pull away, they want to stay. Trapped in this pure essence of each other and never returning to the horrifying reality of their world. But they must and he’s the one to take the bait. 

Out of breath, forehead pressed against each other; her cheek is warm against his cold palm. She’s the first one to speak, voice shakes but with the purest intention of love. “I think I love you just as tenderly and sincerely, James Barnes. I pray you shouldn’t feel so scared to do the same.”

He lets a sigh, so shaky but so vulnerable. All for her. All _because_ of her. He thinks he may die, maybe perhaps he would’ve back then if she were someone else who proclaimed their love for him. But she isn’t. She’s her and that’s all he cares about.

His eyes cannot find hers, for hers are closed and are edged with tears that only threaten to fall waiting for his answer. He knows what he feels, so much of it. It’s a scary feeling; love. To experience it multiple times in a lifetime, to experience the idea of falling in love. 

He’s done that before, too many times with Steve. 

The pain was a great one, young children helplessly in love with each other in a world that forbids them to love. It’s a different time, perhaps, still; he’s just as afraid back then. 

And when he says those very words back to her, they only mean so much of what he feels so greatly in his heart. “You are every bit of the world to me. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you. And that includes not loving you.”

She lets a shameful tear fall, has him wiping at her stain cheek so tenderly. “I don’t want to leave.” She admits. “But I know I can’t be selfish. Not with you and your family.”

Bucky lets out a sigh, a long one when he has to admit to himself that she’s right. And while he wants to give her nothing but the world and wholeheartedly himself, deep in him, some part wants to see Steve. 

Some part of him wants to see that blond headed punk after so long. 

Perhaps, it’s the loneliness they both sleep in, the need for love, warmth, and compassion they both crave. It’s a different kind of love, really. The one he feels for her and the one he feels for him. Different, both in their own ways, that it has him nothing but torn between two sides; his past and his future. 

His own fate in his own heart, his hand. 

This is his decision. 

An unfamiliar understanding for him. He has HYDRA to thank for that. Centuries of abuse, nonetheless.

And while she knew his answer no more than he did, she needed him to say it. He doesn’t. He doesn’t want to put her in pain. He doesn’t want to hear how her heart shatters while she’s atop him. 

Some other time, she thinks. One day, he’ll confess to her just as he did with his love for her. 

“We’ll make out of the facility. Make it our new home if you would like. It won’t be the same… but we’ll find a place in your heart for it.” She nods at his suggestion, breathily sighs as she leans forward in his arms. 

Perhaps, they will. With time, they’ll see.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s not planned. It never was for the both of them.

While the night falls and the moon rises with pride, it’s only appropriate for a night in with scotch and wine staining their taste buds. 

She’s sunken down on the love seat, a red velveteen pillow clutched between her arms as melodic giggles cascade down her dry lips. Careless, now.

Prominent but rare hiccups erupting from the bottom of her stomach echoes through the room. 

He eyes her from across the seat, a smile present on his own lips while she’s entranced by her own telling of a story. A dazed look in her eyes, he could get lost in them if she weren’t already so.

He notes that it should be bedtime soon. It’s past midnight, she’s not drunk, just the most bit tipsy but enough that she’s aware of the prying eyes he’s giving her. 

When they head in, she follows his lead with a content bounce in her step. 

He’s the first to fall back on the bed, a loud groan leaving him as he sinks into the bed comfortably.

A deafening silence rises between them, she ignores it for the while as she prepares for bed; peels her sweater off along with her jeans to leave her in nothing but her underwear. 

In cases she would’ve been conscious of Bucky’s prying eyes, she knows him better than he likes to admit. And she knows his eyes are just as cautious when she’s naked.

She finds him staring with a curious gaze in the mirror, his reflection reflecting that same playful smirk in his face. He’s eyeing her down, this she knows as she keeps her gaze situated on him; never relentless even while she plucks every flower embedded into the twists of her braids. 

With a shaky breath, he admits, “You’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen.”

Hesitant and dubious, she raises a brow at him; never ceasing their gaze at each from the mirror. It’s easier that way, she supposed. Keeps her from smiling like a child with a school girl crush. 

“Is that so? Not even with centuries of experience?”

She watches him pad his way towards her, steps careful and minuscule as he eventually nears her. Metal fingers touching the bare skin of her spine, right above where her tail bone ends. 

“No one could compare to you, dorogaya.” He admits. Reassures the doubt that’s seeping into her pores just as she said before. 

Their eyes are still together, keeping his gaze fixated on her even when his fingers unravel braided hair he had done this morning. 

A soft touch, both from his fingers to her conditioned hair. Eventually, she’s the one who breaks the gaze. Turns her head to him with a knowing look in her eyes. 

He keeps her still, his fingers leaving her unruly hair until he’s found her hips; grip gentle but firm.

A pregnant pause washes over them. The only sound of their beating hearts echo the silent room. So familiar and so comfortable; they could stay in it forever.

She chooses not to. 

Instead, she chooses to find comfort in his lips, such familiarity, such gentleness when she kisses him first.

He’s taken back. Jolts at her forwardness. Her boldness. It almost takes him back to see such traits present in her.

He’s aware of what she’s asking. Especially with the way she’s lazily kissing him with her might.

He has to pull away, catch his breath before anything else. “Are you sure?” He asks, certain of what she’ll say as she had already shown it to him with a kiss.

He needs her to say it regardless.

“Yes.” That’s all she says, a simple nod paired with a simple answer. It’s enough for Bucky to turn them both and lead her to the surface of the bed. 

He’s thankful she’s barely wearing anything, the plain bra hugging her chest just as the way her underwear drenches with anticipation. He nudges her legs open with a knee and settles between them as he leans to grant her mouth with a kiss.

He feels the smallest hum against his mouth, smiles internally as he realizes she’s enjoying every kiss and every touch to her fiery skin.

But she thinks of what will come next. She’s sure it’ll be pleasurable, everything is with him. Though, she’s not that naive to think **_it_ ** won’t hurt. It makes her wonder, question even, why anyone would want anything more than curious and wandering fingers and a skillful mouth.

She’s reminded of what’ll come when his erection presses hard against her navel. So prominent. So… invigorating, even from the layers of his pants and boxers.

She’s sure she can simply just finish like that; his mouth latched on her pulse, nipping and teasing her like he had done nights before when he were pale and sickly. 

She knows he won’t do that to her. At least not like this. He has respect and dignity for her, he won’t do it unless she asked him to.

And when he parts away from her body, lips just as pink as his cheeks, she adores the look on his face. She’s not entirely sure what it is but _god_ , he has no business looking that damn gorgeous. So ethereal and just so perfect.

In times like these, she’s sure she’s died and found peace. 

He looks at her again, she sees the question he’s asking once more in the depths of his baby blue eyes. She answers him, nods her head vigorously and cups his cheek ever so gently.

His eyes flutter close, so beautifully so that the lashes that sit themselves on the edge of his eyes are just as soft as the hair on his head. 

“You are every bit of me just as I am you, James. Don’t think too much of it.” It’s almost laughable on how she’s the one who’s to reassure him. But she knows, fully aware of how much pressure there is on his shoulder just as there is on hers.

She’s aware of the pain. She reassures herself it won’t hurt as much as they say. Not with him for that matters because she knows he’ll do nothing but make this comfortable for her.

And when he presses his forehead against hers, tips of noses touching, he sighs. 

“Let me know when it’s too much.”

She doesn’t answer him, simple nods and captures his mouth again with her own. This time, she slips a tongue in; distracts him from the wandering hand that tugs on the waists of his jeans.

_She’s eager_. He smiles. And she feels it.

Internally, he scolds her for being so eager, so wanting. But he cannot blame her as he were nothing but the same when he had done it with Steve. Both inexperienced yet so wanting. 

He helps her out, uses his free hand that isn’t attached to her breast and tugs down his jeans; frees it until it pools at his ankles. 

Only then, he pulls away from her mouth; breathy and swollen, he grins at the way her heart shatters when he peels off his sweater to reveal his body. His grin reaches further to his ears even more so when he hears the smallest of a gasp.

One of the many perks of being supernatural with super hearing. Every little detail, it’s right there.

And he’s just as eager as she is when he hooks metal fingers around the waistband of her underwear, tugs it down her ankles until the flimsy fabric joins his jeans by the end of the room. 

He pants a tent in his boxers, clearly just as excited as she is when he parts her legs and runs a smooth finger down her slick folds. 

She shatters at the first touch. So sensitive and just so fragile. 

She’s already so wet, that the simplest push of his finger glides so effortlessly in without tension. She gaps, fists the sheets at the intrusion.

Still, her eyes on him never falter one bit.

He fingers her, just like; parted legs with his finger knuckles deep inside her warm cunt. It’s not an unfamiliar sensation but every time feels like the first time for him.

She grasps his wrist, peers up at him with something suggestive in her eyes, something impatient. It makes him smile. Such restlessness, little one.

And he pulls away, slow and steady, her eyes pinches close and her chest heaves. He licks his fingers almost suggestively, like if it were nothing but the very thing he craves on a full moon. His eyes sparkling with a look of adoration.

Then he’s pushing down at his boxers, setting him free from the confinement of his pants. 

The slightest grin curves on his lips when he hears the small gasp that leaves her mouth. He finds her eyeing him down like a clueless little thing.

She looks at him with pure wonder, thinks of how it’ll be physically possible for him to fit. 

And when he leans forward, settles his bare body between her parted legs. She thinks, this is it. They’re so close, so near; just one push, it’ll be painful, but they’ll be there.

He grasps himself, nudges his top towards her sodden flesh. He’s careful, keeps his eyes on her, never leaving, even when he pushes forward bit by bit.

The pain is there, so present and prominent that her face contorts in displeasure. She’ll get through this, she tells herself. It’s temporary. 

Bucky’s mouth parts, seeming to want to speak. She doesn’t let him as she pulls his mouth to his. A silent confession, tells him to continue pushing.

And he does. So slow but the pressure is there and so is the burn. But then it’s gone. Realization settles in that this is what they’ve been waiting for. This is what they've been circling around after that one morning and so many full moons.

He stills inside. Pauses for a moment and shares a look with her when they break away from the kiss. This is the closest they can be, physically in all ways. And she wants nothing but to savour the look on his face, the way he’s so pink and warm; unusual for him to be so anyways.

With a hand on her cheek, he returns her to reality from her reverie. Presses his forehead against hers and has his metal appendage grip her thigh firmly. 

It’s his way of telling her to breathe, to find calmness as he’s going to move. Her chest heaves, so does her breath when she shudders at the first pull and push of his hips towards him.

She’s the first to moan, let’s it out unfiltered and unwarned. She’s loud, he likes it like that and thinks of how natural and beautiful her whines sound. He makes sure she feels nothing but pleasure with every roll of his hips against hers, rubbing so pleasurably against her swollen pearl.

And while she’s louder than her, his groans are just as big when they echo in her ear. 

All of her worries, gone with every thrust, with every kiss to her bare skin, every touch when he rolls a pebbled nipple under forefingers. 

Soon, he becomes the noisy one. His moans are just as challenging as her own. She won’t blame him though, she’s sure that he can feel the pleasure the way she feels it in her toes, her spine when he hits that perfect spot. 

It’s clear he does when he slows his ministrations, helps him up on elbows while he hovers over her body. Pulls a leg up to get himself impossibly deeper. A gasp. And he smiles then contorts his face.

He can tell she’s trying to make it last, she’s trying to keep her composure together even in a time like this.

“S’okay, honey. I’m close.”

And as much as he wants to be ashamed of his shortcoming, all of this is about her. He wants nothing but to make this feel good for her. Make her come undone just as before.

And their finish takes them both by surprise. So present and so forward that she comes with a cry buried in the crook of his neck just as he does with hers; even carefully nips at her fragile skin. He’s right behind her, shamelessly empties himself so deep inside her, so deep himself with euphoria.

While she, well, she’s lost herself in the feeling of him. The way her orgasm washes her body like a midnight bath with him in the tub. Tugs so fierce on the roots of his head, pulls him back from where he settles on her neck. 

She loves him. So tenderly and so sincerely. Every bit of flaw, every scar that attaches that arm that even he himself is afraid of. She loves it. Just as much as she loves him so wholeheartedly. 

There sits a fine line between them. The fine line between adoration, love, and simple lust. She’s his love, his sunshine, his temptress. She’s it for him. This whole of her, he would tear himself piece by piece if it meant loving her.

She stands beside him on that line. Holds him just as close to her heart. Physically, in her arms as he heaves from their climax. 

She understands now, wholeheartedly why they say sex is a complicated thing built on many foundations. She’s sure they must have one hell of a foundation. 

She loves him. He loves her. Only together, alone, at least for now. But for eternity, centuries if possible, they’re all they need.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone is doing well! this took some time to write because i wanted to perfect and take my time with how i wanted to portray their first time. 
> 
> i won’t lie, it was a difficult feat to write a ‘first-time’ scene given that i’ve never had experience myself. so, i apologize if there are mistakes that aren’t totally accurate. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed the chapter :))


	17. Sweet Creature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “sweet creature,  
> running through the garden,  
> oh, where nothing bothered us.”  
> — sweet creature

He’s used to pillow talk. A private and intimate conversation between both men and women over the centuries. She’s fallen asleep, so deep in slumber that doesn’t even stir when his metal hand smooths her hair away from her face.

He thinks, a lot, for a long while. Spends his time staring at her face, pressed against the pillow while he traces a cold finger down her bare spine. When he drags his finger up and down, reaching to where her neck is, he finds a litter of purple bruises on her skin.

With a grin creeping on his face, he thinks of the handy work he’s done to her last night. Thinks of how many first times he’s had with someone every night, out of all; she’s the one. She’s the one who’s got him tingling all over his body, erupting that fiery storm beneath his belly.

Soon, she stirs in her sleep; moans loudly as she claws at her eyes. “Mmh…” Her face comes into view, all puffed and swollen from sleep. It makes him smile. “It’s too early.” She says, groans with a grin at him.

“You’ve been sleeping all day, honey.”

She turns, scowls at him with furrowed brows and slit eyes. “I blame you.” The sarcasm is prominent in her voice but she catches the genuine concern on his face.

She feels the strong ache between her legs, barely has her moving too much in bed. But she wants to sit up, so she does. Pushes through the soreness and peers up at him with a lazy grin. 

“I didn’t go too far, did I?” He asks, face filled with nothing but worry.

She shakes her head, fingers the gold necklace on her décolletage; cold and slippery under forefingers. “You were perfect.” She ends her sentence with a smile, so much adoration in the pupils of her eyes it makes Bucky feel euphoric by looking at her.

His face softens, heart warms at the sight. Then he’s leaning down, draws her chin up so he could press his swollen lips against hers. It’s slow, passionate, just like the many he gave last night to her.

She’s the one who pulls away, practically jolts back with fear in her eyes. His heart sinks. Just as the way regret probably has in her. He still asks anyways. “What’s wrong?”

She groans at her own sudden movement, pushes herself up along with the bedsheet to cover whatever else of her body he's probably seen.

“We didn’t… You weren’t wearing— James, I could get—”

He answers her before she gets to. Fills that fear and throws it away before she starts blaming herself for the unavoidable.

His hands, both cold and warm, around her flushed and swollen cheek; forces her to peer up at him. “You’ll be nothing but fine, honey. We can’t get humans pregnant.”

He watches as her shoulders sag, a sigh of relief falls and her eyes flutter close. He’s almost just as relieved as she is. Thinking of how she might’ve regretted their time together. 

“Oh.”

A chuckle falls, makes her cheeks flush even more under the palm of his hands. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume.”

He shakes his head, ducks down and eyes her embarrassed face. With a thumb stroking her hot cheek, he draws her head up by the chin.

“Not your fault, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He leans close, presses his cold lips against her forehead. She falls against him, head laid on his chest as she snakes her arms around his body.

_ Baby _ .

She smiles. He won’t see it but it's there, ever present and prominent as she feels her own heart sing with his. He rubs a hand down her bare back, feels his metal hand run a finger down her spine.

He pats her bare bottom, makes her chuckle against his chest; rumbles deeply through her body. “Now, c’mon. We can’t stay in bed all day. Not with the weather like this.”

She watches him look at her with a curving grin, makes her forget about everything else that worries her and feeds into the burning desire between her legs. She reciprocates the look, runs a finger up his bare torso where she can feel every ab, every toned muscle.

“Who said?  _ Maybe _ …” She draws her sentence out. He feels her breath quicken just as her heart. “Maybe you can fuck me all day.”

The prolific words has him coughing up in surprise. His eyes wide and cheeks red as he peers down at her with shock. 

“Now, now.” He grips her chin, pulls her up on his bare lap where he feels her slick thighs touch his own. She gasps, holds onto his shoulder for support. With a look in her eyes, bottom lip between teeth, she grins at his words. “We have nothing but time.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They return to their routine. Their chores. She waters her plants, he does the laundry, cleans whatever dirty clothes they have and washes them anew. 

Throughout the day, it’s busy. He doesn’t like it but he doesn’t hate it. Keeps his and her mind off the idea that they’re leaving everything they’ve worked so hard for.

And while they keep themselves busy, they hardly get work done. 

He kisses her in her garden, a hand down her pants while he fingers her; basket of dead flowers fallen to the floor. She kisses him back while they hunt, pressed up against a tree with his lips between hers.

He’s between her legs, devouring her with desire when they take a break for lunch. On the couch, she’s laid out. Perfect like a painting, he pulls her legs open and her core closer to his needy mouth as she comes undone.

Another, he's inside her on their bed. Pulls at every orgasm he can from the both of them until even he gets tired.

Then they return to making lunch. Seated on one of the bed stools, she watches him peel the skin of potatoes and eggplant. A glint of mischief in the depths of his baby blue eyes. 

_ He’s thinking _ . 

He barely says anything. But his silence says enough.

With a grin, he puts the knife down and pads his way towards her. He draws her chin up, traces a finger to her cheek while he eyes her down. 

_ God, she’s beautiful. _

Every scar, every flaw. Each telling a different fable from her past life. It makes his heart ache, for that she may become a part of his past in a century or two.

He thinks of something else. Thinks of her lips. Her eyes. Every beautiful thing that she is.

“Я люблю тебя, малышка.”

She has no clue what he says, simply hums at this with a grin. She leans in to his palm and her eyes flutter close. He leans, kisses the tip of her nose so gently and sincerely. Even with that itself, says more than needed.

He loves her. So profoundly and with so much vulnerability  that she's sure he’s unfamiliar with it. That’s okay. They’ll work it through. Every bit of flaw in their relationship, it’ll be fine.

  
  
  
  


He’s the one who brings out the games tonight. Demands they play a little game for the night to ease their stress. She agrees, watches him sit in front of her with a glass of Ophelia’s finest rum swirling around.

“You go.” He tells her, chugs the remains of his drink before searching for the bottle for more.

She picks a card, sighs heavily as the memory of the last time they had played this game didn’t end so well. She stretches her legs, places them on Bucky’s lap with a grin present on her face. She returns focus on the fine print, reads the words aloud. “Have you ever fallen in love?”

A soft smile falls on his lips, hides it behind the glass when he takes a sip of the rum. He doesn’t say anything. Though, it says all too much that she knows.

“Okay. Your turn.”

He plucks a card from the deck, eyes squinting at the small card. He smiles, even grins when he meets her eyes. So flirtatious, so genuine.

“What was your first time like?”

She returns the gesture, pursues her lips and stares up at the ceiling. A thought. Attempting to find the right words for the amazing thing she’s experienced with him. A hum falls from her cold lips. His fingers massage her ankle while she’s at that.

“Well, he was much  _ much _ older. I’ll tell you that.” The comment pulls a chuckle from him, makes her smile with such sincerity in her lip. He eyes her down, lazy lids looking at her with pure curiosity for what she has to say. “ _ But _ , he was everything that made it special. I was a little nervous, anxious, even. I won’t lie. He’s been with many women in his lifetime that I wasn’t sure if I could live up to his expectations.”

She found his eyes watching her with an intense gaze, as she fingers the gold chain that sat around her neck, her lips curved into a small smile.

He thinks of Steve, then her. It makes his stomach stir at the way he struggles to choose a side. It’s guilt, he knows it.

“Though, he was nothing but kind to me. Perfect in every way.” She admits, drags her gaze from him to the carpeted floor. “He made me feel special.” 

_ She is _ , he thinks. Every bit of her and he hates how his mind wanders off to Steve, thoughts of his first time with the certain blond. Though, it could never compare to what he feels for her now. 

He eyes her down, pupils filled with nothing but love for the sweetest girl in front of him. He smiles, doesn’t move from his spot with the exception of his fingers rubbing against her ankle.

And when she finds his gaze on her, she reciprocates the very same curve on her lips. 

“You have nothing to worry about.” He listens to the way her heart races, smiles to himself at how greatly he affects her. “We have all the time in the world. And I could teach you many great things.”

Her eyes darken, fills with something sinister lustful. He knows. He knows what she’s thinking as she crawls her way over to him, stops mere inches away from him with a grin. 

“Then teach me.” She says, voice dripping with pure sultry pleasure. It’s a different tone. She’s… bold. More forward with what she wants. Way off with that frail malnourished teenager he found two years ago. She’s grown, both physically and mentally as a person. 

“Teach me how to return the favour.”

Her grips her chin, a smile presenting itself on his face while he peers down at her. He wants to say yes, but he fears it’ll be too much for her. The expectations, the lack of experience. A large weight on her shoulders. Makes him wonder if this is what she wants for herself or for him.

She knows he’s contemplating it. Watches the gears turn behind his pretty eyes. A sigh. Then she pulls away. 

“I want this. For me and you. Lemme return the favour.”

He cups her faces, warm skin against his cold palm and he hears the hitch in her breath at the contact. He doesn’t pull away, only smiles at her lovingly.

“I just want to be sure.”

She grins, her hands moving on their own accord towards his lap. 

She fumbles with the button of his jeans, however, still keeps her gaze on him. Never falling, always still. His eyes close the moment she touches him on top of layers of his boxers. Slick hands as she palms him, his breathing heaving against his chest with every movement.

“You can’t go and teasing me like that, baby.” Her heart never fails to flutter at the pet name, so unusual but so familiar. It brings her all sort of comfort.

She smiles, even more so when she grasp him bare and pulls him out. The memories of last night return, like a fever dream, she remembers how he felt inside of her. Slick and big, she pauses to keep her composure. So close to breaking, she wants to take all of him.

“Is this okay?”

He nods, sweeps the fallen tendrils of hair out of her face. Smiles at the look of hesitation on her face. It’s not guilt but fear of inexperience, something he’ll help her with. Something he’ll guide her through.

And when she leans down, takes that very first lick against his shaft; a vein on her flattened tongue; he left out a breathy whimper. It makes her stomach turn at the sound, knowing that this is her doing. That this is what she does to him.

She begins to take more of him, her head bobbing carefully up and down. Setting a new challenge each time she lifts her head, takes him deeper than before until she feels herself gag. Then she pulls away.

Drool covered lips, his cock sits between her mouth. He doesn’t see her, with eyes closed, he’s too buried in the euphoria she brings when she takes him again. His moans become louder, unfiltered and just so him the moment he feels the need to cum. 

She’s the first to notice, bitter and salt on the tips of her tongue when he fills her mouth. Grips his thighs like iron, while soft murmurs of his euphoria fills the echoes of her ear like a symphony.

She swallows every bit of him like a champ, eyes pinches at the bitterness that burns down her throat. And when she pulls away, wipes at the reminisce of him from her lip.

A smile, so present on her face; so proud and satisfied. “Are you okay?”

“Never.” He grins, looks down at her.

With a hum, he rubs at the stubble growing slowly on his cheek. She thinks that in a few weeks she will have to clean him again. “That’s too bad.”

He leans back, sighs while he stares up into the ceiling. He feels his heart race, the way hers does. So both in sync and fast. Truly, he’s never been well with her. A good thing at that. He’s never felt… so familiar, at ease with her. So unusual with the way he's felt past centuries.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


His lips are soft against the nape of her neck, gentle but firm as he moves along the spot under her jaw that sends chills down her body. It never fails to make him chuckle, thinking of how fragile and so sensitive she is to his touch.

And while his finger dances along her navel, soft circles rubbed against the skin, he teases her pulse with his tongue. 

She hums, “James…”

His stubble rubs against her. A sense of serenity washing over her body. “I know, honey. I know. Just focus on my fingers.”

And she does what she’s told. Leans against his front, attempting to forget what he’s about to do with her body. Instead, closes her eyes in ecstasy the way his fingers dips to where the band of her undies lay. A thumb circling on the little bow that sits on the cotton.

She sighs, focuses on the way his metal fingers bury themselves under her underwear; feels the tuft of unkempt hair on her pubic bone. “Tell me a story, honey. Tell me one from your books.

She jolts awake the moment his teeth sink into her skin, so simple but it’s a sting and it’s there. 

“Well, there was this god and there was this goddess. The god, well, he was seen as evil and dark. They called him the King of the Underworld.” He hums against her neck, sinks deeper as he drinks. “Then, there was her. Beautiful, stunning, kind. They called her the Goddess of Spring. However, she found herself in his home, lost and confused. But he found her, took care of her. Well, soon enough, he found himself falling for the sweet lady. Just as Persephone found herself in love with the King of the Underworld. She knew, so certain of herself, that she would go to Hell and back for him.”

Within seconds, Bucky pulls away, licks away at her wound before he kisses her clean. He smiles as he leans his cheek against her shoulder and hums. 

“Is that a story of us?”

She chuckles, giggles even when he pulls his hand out of her panties. With a roll of her eyes, she brings his free hand to her lips; kisses his knuckles softly. “It could be, Mr. Barnes.”

He sighs. Lets the seconds pass between them.

“I love you.”

She freezes, then squeezes his hand tighter in response. A smile creeps on her face as she brings his hand up again to kiss. 

“I know.”

For that, she’s nothing but certain and much like Persephone, she would go to Hell and back for him.

  
  
  
  


She cries herself to sleep one night. Her body curled against Bucky’s while he engulfs her in an embrace. 

It’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s everywhere she wants and needs to be. Then it hits her. The true feeling of home, what’s it like. He’s it. He’s her safe place, her little bundle of joy that brings nothing but peace and eternity to her life.

She cries harder, sobs wreck through her body as her James rubs a hand on her back. Circles, circles. Sometimes he draws on her exposed skin, hearts, words she cannot decipher. She loves it regardless. Loves how contradicting his metal fingers are when it touches her warm skin.

He then tells her his own story. Another Greek fable of two star-crossed lovers. This time, it’s about the doomed romance of the two; Eurydice and Orpheus. 

Oh, how Orpheus simply wanted to save his wife. A beautiful romance but fate was not on their side. 

She thinks of how much she loves her James. Thinks of how many tasks she would go through to save him. Thinks of how many circles of Hell she would run to get to him. For she,  _ God _ , she loves him. 

So sincerely and raw, so fragile, and so much. She’s his, all open and vulnerable just he is to her. 

Soon, sleep just takes her quickly as she wishes. Aware of what tomorrow’s future might bring for them. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


She’s the first to be awake, the sun paints her face a beautiful gold. Makes her eyes flutter wide open to see her James fast asleep beside her.

Her eyes trace the scars on his shoulder and soon her fingers follow along. As soft fingertips touch the ragged skin, she’s careful to break him as if he were nothing but fragile.

She knows that he can feel her; feel every circle she rubs on his shoulder. But somehow, just somehow, he finds the comfortability and trust in her.

“Hate me yet?” He asks, voice hoarse and broken but eyes still closed in slumber.

She sighs, leans forward and kisses the scars like they were his lips. “I could never, James Barnes.” She reassures him. “Not with the way you look in the mornings.”

Just then, he takes the step to open his eyes, still hidden behind the pillow but enough for her to catch a glimpse of those baby blues. She smiles. So bright it reaches to her eyes. “There you are, my love.” 

She reaches out for him, touches and sweeps at the fallen tendrils of hair framing his face. God, even in the early songs of the mornings, he's still just as radiant in the falls of night. 

He reaches out for her too. Hand claiming her own in an intertwined mess and bringing their hands to his lips. Smiling, she traces his metal with her free hand, sighs when the reality settles in her bones.

He shakes his head. “None of that.” he tells her, then brings her face to his; closes the space between them and kisses her. Eyes flutter close in pure bliss, she thinks this is where she dies. Right here in their home with lips pressed against his where nothing but him matters.

He moved against her, his large body hovering her own with careful ease not to squish her. She is well aware of what’ll happen and what he is asking, she wants nothing but the same as she succumbs to every touch his wandering hands give her. 

A nudge, then his knee right between her parted legs while his kisses drop to where her pulse lay. She gasps when he teases her with a nip of his teeth, makes him smile against her skin; thinking of responsive she is to every touch of his. 

And while she’s busy focusing on the reminisce of where his teeth were once last night, he draws her legs up where thighs squeezes his hips. 

He’s thankful he’s bare, so as the moment he draws himself near her, all he needed to do was push; slow and gentle as if it were her first time once again. 

She cries his name, loud and clear with shallow trembling breathes. Unfiltered and raw, she finds embarrassment in her noise as she hides in the very crook of his neck.

Her James does not like that one bit as he grips her chin with a soft touch, forcing her head to draw up at him. Her brows are pinched in pleasure but mixed with confusion. “Look at me.”

He pulls at every sound he can, every moan, whimper, and mewl from her mouth when he stirs inside of her. Thrusting in and out while nimble fingers press credent marks in to his back while she sings with her cries.

She never tries too hard, always herself even when she calls for his name. He builds her like that, pushes and pulls until she is squeezing him over and over again. 

Her facial contorts at the pleasure. Her own euphoria wrecks at every inch of her body till they reach her toes. And with a back arched, breasts pressed against his chest, he fingers a pebbled nipple under metal digits until he himself groans and stills inside her. 

Every bit of this feels perfect. Meant to be in every way. As if her body was made for him the way his are for hers. 

She lets a mewl slip from her slick lips, her eyes flutter up to see the sight of him flushed and red. “I love you more,” she whispers, drags a thumb across his red lips and smiles. “I love you so much more, James Buchanan Barnes.”

She stares at him, eyes heavy and broken with the reality of their future. But it won’t matter, she’s reassured herself that she loves him and he loves her. He’s been home and her one true always. Wholeheartedly so, and tenderly. She loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this took a little while to post, yes, i apologize. i also apologize in advance for the next future chapters as i’ll be planning what will happen in the story. plus, my first term for my semester is nearing to an end and i have to focus on attempting to push my grades up. 
> 
> i hope everyone is safe and well! i’ll see you all soon and thank you reading supporting me! 
> 
> (also shameless plug, but i did make a ko-fi under the @wiensrsoldier just in case you wanted to support me beyond reading. that’s all!)


	18. Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ home, and i know  
> playing the deck above  
> it's always different  
> i'm the one in love ”  
> — genesis

The air that morning is cold, harsh, and strict. It leaves her skin to burn despite the layers of jackets on her, even James’ henley. Yet, still, it’s the warmest out of them all.

She loses herself a little, dashes outside with a smile at the way the front garden looks clean, tended. Only then, the heavy bags that sit on the joints of her shoulders, filled with clothes, bis and hers, while he carries the heavier stuff— the necessities, the food, the weapons, it reminds her of the truth.

Her mouth is lined with a frown and her James notices. A hand, metal, on the end of her spine and she peers up at him with glazed eyes. 

“What’s on your mind, my love?” Even with his occupied hand, he traces a thumb over the course of her bitten lips.

She sighs and lets her eyes flutter shut, an undeniable tear cries down her cheek. But yet still, she feigns a smile. “Nothing.” She lies. “Just you.”

He knows her far better than she cares to admit. He hears the race of rhythm in her heart, but he won’t push. Instead he reassures.

“I love you.”

A genuine smile lines her lips now.

“I know.”

The conversation is just as short as their goodbyes. She looks one last time. Then she turns. Her eyes set on the small Beetle they call their car. Soon, for a while, their home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She finds abandoned houses like art, frozen in time, beautiful caresses of what was once in the world. 

Sometimes she reads when she falls bored of the scenery. 

Sometimes she reads to her James, a helpless giggle falls from her lips when he pokes her pudgy stomach.

Sometimes she tells him stories of her childhood. One that she claims she went to a halloween party dressed up as a dinosaur when it was disco themed. He shakes at that and imagines teenage you clueless about your own actions.

Sometimes she reads the map that’ll lead them to home. Their new home.

She hates thinking of it like that. She hates this part. The moving. But somewhere deep in their new journey, this new chapter, she knows that will be more to come.

Bucky reminds her of that. 

When five hours falls by, the night is dark, and she’s fallen asleep, he smiles at the sight her mouth parted in slumber and the way soft snores erupt.

His feelings are true and genuine. And for once, in the millennia he’s been alive, walked, fell in love, he cherishes her the most. Like a blooming rose, she grows around him as she blossoms, and he doesn’t dare to stop her.

  
  
  
  


She asks to stop when they near a station. 

She claims that it’ll be good to walk. To stretch their legs, their arms. But she finds her own wrapped around Bucky’s the moment she steps out of the Volkswagen Beetle. 

A deep inhale and he realizes.

She misses his touch.

She misses the touch of him.

She misses him.

Even if they were in the car, truly and physically present, she’s not allowed to be anything more than that. She wants to kiss him. To touch like there isn’t the fear of driving off the street.

She gets to do that.

Even if just for a small minute.

She kisses the edge of his jaw, stubbled from the lack of shaving, she smiles internally. She packed the razors. She always will. 

Despite the love she craves for his beard. The love she craves when it scratches and leaves burns between her legs, she loves the clean look more. She gets to kiss his lips, pouty pink, occasionally red, she gets to kiss him either way.

“C’mon.” She tugs on his arm, her gaze turned to the small plaza set upon them. 

He follows along, the animal inside him is raised on instinct. He’s not to be blamed. It's the way he's raised. The way he's made. To care and to be alert. Especially with her around. He needs to be. For her.

He helps her rummage through old boxes. Nothing of the sorts that is useful to them, she grows frustrated and moves on, and on, and on. Still, nothing. 

Her groan catches his attention and his eyes are set upon her figure. A frown lines her lips, while a furrow pinches her brows. He chuckles at the sight of her. Like a small little child, she grows frustrated and stands with arms crossed. 

Even in the puffy jacket she wears, she’s ever so tiny beside him. “C’mon. We have to get going.” Her frown deepens and it hits a spot in his chest that aches. He takes it back, he wishes he can. In another life, he would give her all the time. Another another life, he would kiss her, he would tell her that he would give her the world. But not in this one.

They will have to wait until safety welcomes them.

  
  
  


He hates to wake her up. He really does. But he knows her more than she likes to admit and knows how her heart will race at the view, that itself pushes him through.

So, he traces a cold hand over the skin of her warm cheek, like a moth tempted to a light, he nears his face with his own. Lips are just as cold as his fingers but as he kisses her nose, gentle caress of his lips, he kisses her awake.

“Wake up, honey.” He smiles at the sight of her, like a babe in deep slumber. “I wanna show you something.”

She lets a tiny whimper when she realizes sleep is something she must evade. She even wiggles in this tiny seat of hers that barely fits, while her eyes flutter in question to his words.

“It’s early.” That she can tell. 

The cold brings certainty to her statement. It’s always like that in the mornings. She hates it but mornings where she wakes under the quilt with her James’ limbs tangled with hers, then it makes it all bearable. Those are the mornings she looks forward to.

Bucky chuckles at the sight of his love. With lips stout and pout while she knuckles at her eyes, attempting to rub the sleep away, he kisses her cheek once more. 

For reassurance, he’ll say if she asked.

“I’m still tired.”

He smiles. 

“I know you are.” His fingers find the click of her seatbelt, one push, and she’s free from the safety of it. “But I promise, you’ll love this.”

Now that’s a promise he can keep. Ones that don’t involve the world, but the ones that involve his love and his time for her. They’re the ones that he’ll always keep.

She trusts his words. His promises when she opens the car door once more. The cold weather sends a thoughtful shiver down her spine, makes her shake with a shiver and it catches Bucky’s attention.

He doesn’t miss a beat at all when he rushes to her side. An arm, his metal one, the one he hasn’t been afraid to use in a decade. All because of her. Just a few nights ago, she reminded him of what more it can do than death and destroy. 

Sometimes he thinks, when he’s alone, he looks down. Gold lines the cracks in his arms, vibranium still ever so black and slick, it doesn’t even creak like it did with his old one. It shimmers.

It even looks better when it was buried deep inside of her. Slick and wet, her moans remind him of his arm, his fingers, and what more it could do. 

He's ever thankful for her. Always and forever,

Her voice, kind, gentle, and small, brings him back. While a hand intertwines with his own, she squeezes in reassurance. “What is it you’re showing me?”

He nearly forgot about that. Too caught up in her beauty, in his love, his life, he doesn’t mind really. She looks at him with heavy lids, he makes a mental note to let her sleep more after this.

But right now, he wishes to give her the world. His promise, unkept, he wishes to show her everything. He wishes to let her experience the life she deserves.

He has a finger under her chin, draws her gaze from him to the view in front of them. It’s a hill. Big that if she fell, she would be severely injured. He won’t let that happen. Never.

The sun, both warm and bright, lights a glow, an ombré of colours that range from the colour of her jacket, red, to beautiful shades of pink, some a hint of blue that she would argue matched his eyes. But that’s not the best part.

It’s the way the morning casts a glow on its surroundings. To him, it’s her that he catches his eye on. A beautiful creature under this light, she flows like some angel he would’ve met in the afterlife. 

Maybe this is heaven and he died. He wouldn’t mind if it meant seeing her like this. Her eyes wide, lips curved in a smile of awe. It’s too perfect. He loves it.

At some point, he forgets their journey. She does too. At some point, they both do and all they can do is focus on the silence. The small silent wisp of the air, chill and cold, with the contrast of the sun. 

If she listens close enough, even without the super hearing and all, she can hear bugs singing to their lovers. An act of passion. She smiles at that simple thought that even the smallest living creatures carry the same passion, the same lust and love she carries for her James.

She breathes, after an eternity in silence, she breathes. “I love it.” And she squeezes his arm, even nuzzles her head against his large biceps.

Just like this.

She wishes everything would go away and stay like this.

No stupid dead people.

No stupid… anything.

Just her and her James. The sun’s beautiful glow and view, she falls in love again every time. Every time, she remembers the first she had laid eyes on him and him on her. The first time she kissed him. Their first full moon. Their first.

She loves him, so wholeheartedly. So much and so full of herself that if she died right in this moment, away from their very first home, away from the life they built, even with all of that gone, if she died right now with him beside her, that’s all she’ll ever need.

He’s all that she ever needs. Forever and till the next life. That’s all that matters.

After moments, moments after he forcefully tears his eyes away from her, he rasps; “It’s beautiful.”

Oh how he wishes to kiss her in this moment. And oh how greatly she feels the same. She feels his gaze, unwavering and unrelenting on the side of her face, so she turns. Finds his baby blues, the one that matches the sky right now, staring at her. 

Beneath those pretty lashes, long and black, she finds the love he holds for her. She smiles at him in return, almost as if a thank you for his great kindness. 

While he? Well, he moves faster than she can blink and all she feels is him.

His lips. Softer than clouds from the heavens combine.

His tongue.

His fingers.

His skin.

My God, does he feel like a dream itself. One that she wishes she could drown in forever. For an eternity. But it’s one that’s short lived as he pulls away with heaving breaths.

His lips, oh my God, his lips. Pink and swollen from the act itself, he looks flushed. His own cheeks mocking his mouth, he looks taken back more than her.

His thumb caresses the cold skin of her cheek, almost an attempt to soothe her frozen face with his warmth. He’s colder than her. Much colder.

That doesn’t seem to be a problem nor does she care as she’s the one leaning this time. Her own mouth hovers over his, teasing a taste of her tongue on his. He holds her close, tight on her hips, another on the bottom of her butt.

She giggles like a child at that, this time, she doesn’t feel ashamed. She never does anymore. “Thank you.” She says, a smile to her voice that even with eyes closed, he could feel it. “For everything.”

He returns the gesture. Another kiss on her lips. Her nose. Her forehead. She sighs in content. Filled with nothing but genuine happiness.

“Always.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall! long time, i hope everyone holidays were amazing, i’ve been extremely busy but i’ve done a lot of planning for the next chapters of this series so i’m incredibly excited to give you guys what i have.
> 
> thank you all for the love and support, i’m so amazed that you guys love this as much as i love writing it! <3


	19. Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ would things be easier   
> if there was a right way?  
> honey, there is no right way ”
> 
> — someone new

She’s awake through the whole ride.

She never slept after their stopover. If only, it kept her awake. A tingle between her legs, an ache, or puddle. She keeps that in mind to keep her distracted when her James tell her they’ll be home soon.

She knows home isn’t permanent. She knows home is wherever he is. But regardless, it leaves a bitter taste on her tongue when she hears it.

He can sense her.

Hear every beat, every race of her pulse.

Certainly he can feel her too. With the hand between her thighs, a squeeze of assurance, she’s tense. More that she’s ever been.

But when they arrive, all he hears is her. The race of her pulse, loud and beating against his ear that he almost grimaces if it weren’t for the slight murmur.

Even without the hearing, he hears the slight whimper in her trembling lips. Her eyes glazed, throat closed, and body tiny. She’s scared. So frightened by the idea of this, whatever this is, that she fears it.

And Bucky won’t let, he is too. But he knows that with her, he'll be fine. These people are his family and so is she. He brings his full attention to her, both hands, covering her face as he draws her head up.

He meets her eyes, tear stained and wide, she looks.

“I’m here.”

She blinks. A tear rolls down her face, just in time as his thumb catches and rubs it away. 

“I know.”

But it makes her wonder if she does. Despite his presence here, she still feels the need to be comforted back home where she sits by the fireplace with the quilt over her body, her James by her side while red wine stains their lips and their soberness.

She’s not. 

Instead, she’s here with him, standing in an unfamiliar setting that makes her frozen in place. She’s frightened, yes. Scared, even more so for what their future here lays for them.

New people.

Old ones for him.

But for her, these are strangers that her James calls family. And she can’t be selfish. Not in a time like this. Nor for him. She loves her James, that she’s everything that she’s sure of and if it meant this, then so be it.

She blinks once again. 

Bucky catches her. She’s returning and he’s grateful. She’s here and that’s all he wants. He wants her to be perfect. To be happy. He doubts this now. And this time, she catches it beneath those baby blues.

This time, she asks, “Are you okay?” 

Bucky doesn’t peep a word, only shared a gentle smile and nods as he ducks his head once more. Another kiss. Not to her lip, she’s fine with that. She always welcomes his touches, wherever they may be. 

This time, it’s on her wet lashes, eyes closed as she feels him. The slight chapped lips of his, yet still like a baby’s bum, soft. She sighs in content. Her fingers leaving the gold chain on her neck, she barely touches Ophelia’s anymore, and her arms snake around Bucky.

He’s much bigger than her. That is no doubt. And with that, she struggles. A lot with everything. Their first. And now, her hugs. She doesn’t give up. She just holds him like that. Even if her arms barely reach around. 

It’s enough.

  
  
  
  
  


“I’ll be here, you know.” He tells her, his eyes peering down from where she stands beside him.

He catches a grin but feels a squeeze to his arm. “And so I am.” His mouth curves in response.

They await their hosts. They don’t take long, they’re on time. Always are. And soon, she catches a glimpse of a stout small boy, a mop of coco hair jumps as she catches Peter rushing to her. 

She grins up at James, he returns the same and urges her with a nudge. She takes that offer and soon, she’s engulfed in a hug. Oh, how Peter smells like a babe. A sweet scent of vanilla, a little musk that just makes him masculine. She misses him so that she fails to see the other strangers that are her hosts around the area.

When she turns, she’s gifted with a view of a blond. A man. Hugging her James.  _ Oh _ . She rocks on her heels. Barely even registers what Peter says right next to hed. 

It’s just a hug.

James loves her.

Yet, then why does she feel an ache in the pits of her stomach. Jealousy? Perhaps, but she knows James’ heart is owned by no one but her. 

She feigns a smile when they pull away and she gets a look at the blond. Pretty. Attractive. Bulk. Yes, she has eyes, but it doesn’t spark the same fire in between her legs the way the brunet beside him does.

She doesn’t even get to register the moment before the blond is already stepping up. It’s Captain America, she realizes. Steve Rogers. Soon her jealousy becomes adoration. She flushed under his gaze and ducks when he towers her.

Much like a turtle in her shell, she only emerges when Steve lets a chuckle at her expression. Behind his broad figure, he finds her lover, James. She finds comfort in his gaze, somehow feels giddy when she catches his eye only to realize he isn’t looking at her.

Again, her heart drops.

He’s looking at Steve.

She drowns out Steve’s voice and finds the courage to remember what James had said to her the other night before they left. 

_ You have nothing to worry about. _

Suddenly she does when she finds him staring at Steve. Those same eyes, now doe and a cerulean blue, looking at a certain blond.

She aches.

She breaks.

Yet still, she fakes a smile when Steve addresses her to follow him. Even more, she’s become an actress as Captain fucking America questions her like they’ve been friends forever. She answers him likewise. Feigning sincerity in her words, and deep inside she hopes she passes.

  
  
  
  


Their place is big, it’s comfy. 

But it feels like a hotel.

There’s only one bed, she doesn’t mind. It’s king size, not as big as the one at their lake house. But still, it’ll fit a super soldier and her. Duvets thicker than her quilt, she prefers the latter, another reason why she packed it with her.

Pillows, softer than her years old, smells good too if she’s being honest. Air conditioning, nice. But oh, the bathroom. God, it’s so much bigger than before. Suddenly she feels like a child who’s on vacation with her parents. That itself reminds her of her parents, an ache in her chest, she shakes it off.

They have a whole house to themselves.

She’ll enjoy that. 

Just him and her. They appreciated the space Steve gave, not that they lack any. It is a pretty big sanctuary, she won’t lie. With acres that probably stretches over thousands, she doubts that a house is not all they own.

And with the world they live in, it’s no doubt that these strangers, these people, are definitely more technology inept.

Bucky notices her silent and lingering gaze. Her figure, bare if the jacket she wore, with the exception of his red henley. He smiles at the picture of her. Eyes wide in wonder, curiosity, as if she were brought back into a new world like a babe. In some way, she has.

This life, his life, is different from hers. 

In this one, creatures and humans coexist in peace, unity, harmony. In her world, and to some extent of his life, all they’ve known is violence. War and pain.

In his, all he's known is HYDRA.

In her, all she’s known is death.

He kisses the junction where her pulse meets. Warmth rushes through his body when he hears her heart face in tow with his actions, that itself, makes him smile against her skin. 

She murmurs something under her breath, a sentence, one even with his super hearing that he can’t understand. He’s too caught up in the touch and smell of her. Blame him, he doesn’t care. 

He touches her the way he wants and the way she’ll let him. This time, his fingers, cold and metal, push at the his shirt that she wore, revealing just enough of her navel to allow him to draw feeble circles against warm skin.

She whispers this time, his name. 

And all he does is hum in return. She likes that, he can tell when the smell of her fills him whole. Even moans when he plays with the small bow on the cotton band of her underwear. She’s gasping at this point, small little inhales of air, her head lulls back for support.

Her throat closes this time but she’s got a hand wrapped like vice around his thick wrists. She finds the courage, and rasps. “I’m dirty.”

Bucky only chuckles at this, but his hands back away to her request. He tugs the shirt back down and kisses her once more.

They join each other in the comfort of their new shower. They have a bath now. It’s big, spacious, just enough for the both of them.

He strips her first. To the jeans she wears, he takes them with a careful ease, it pools around her ankles and he asks her to step out. She follows without rebuttal and only holds herself with a sigh. She feels him, with no doubt, hands tracing her protruding hip bone, the band of her underwear— he doesn’t take those off yet.

But he does finger the hem of his sweater, now, rightfully owned by her, he crouches down to where he’s faced with her stomach and through heavy lashes, he peers up at her. He finds her bottom lip stuck between teeth. Nervous little thing. He smiles. 

He smells her. Even more so now that he nears her clothed core. But he’ll savour her for later, for now, he just wants to spend time buried deep under a coat of bubbles.

She loses herself in the thought of him. Oh, and Steve. Again, her heart races at the mere idea of them and somewhere in the pits of her stomach, it churns.

She wants to kiss him this time. To feel his tongue touch her own in a heated trance. To feel his lips smack against hers. She wants to taste him. That slight cigarette taste in his mouth, a little hint of him. She wants him to fuck her.

But her throat seems tight and all she could muster was a small whimper when his henley pools on the bathroom tiles and his thumb, metal, presses flat against her nipple. While his mouth? He presses a kiss to her navel, just a few millimeters from where—

“James…”

His eyes flashes to her. 

He takes the hand that reaches out to touch his coco locks. “I know, honey.” A kiss to her knuckles. Another to her wrist. His eyes never leaves her. 

Soon, he towers over her when he stands. His back straight and his muscles bulge, he hears the swallow in her throat when her gaze settles upon him. Good heavens, she thinks, hes big. While she stands here idly, bare to him with the exception of her underwear, her chest heaves.

He traces the soft skin of her jaw, a simple tilt with his finger, her head lulls back for his view— her pulse exposed and wonderfully so for him. 

“Симпатичная вещица.”

Another set of Russian sayings she doesn’t understand. She thanks him internally for them, regardless. She doubts they’re bad. Nothing is with her James.

And the thought of that alone makes her giggle. His gaze lands on her again and her face flushes with heat, while her thighs cross tightly as he holds her hips like vice.

“What’re you laughing at, my sweet girl?”

Oh, that’s new.

Not that she’s complaining. 

She loves the sound of it. The way it plays on his tongue like some twisted beautiful melody only written in the stars for her. Like constellations shining down, he does the same when he towers over and she has to peer her head up.

She teases him with a gentle smile. Her teeth and all. Hell, she even sways her hips as her pads towards the mere gap that’s between them. “Nothing.”

He rubs his knuckles against her cheekbones. In a hushed tone, he speaks with a grin. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, honey?”

Bucky juts his head towards the tub, a silent gesture for their next of actions as she helps him remove his own remaining clothes as well. 

He helps her in first, a hand on her back as he settles in the tub, the water, warm, engulfs her like heat. He sneaks in behind her just as his arm does to pull her back close to his front. She shivers slightly at the contrast of temperature and it makes him hum. Captivated by her warmth.

Her head lulls back to his chest and she wishes to look up but her eyes are already closed in pure harmony. A sense of belonging in this space just as it did back in their lake house.

For a moment, time freezes and it’s just them.

Then, with enough energy she could muster, she speaks with a hush in her tone. “I thought about what you said.” She confesses. Bucky’s throat and chest vibrates against her spine, a question lingers in that sound itself as he can’t seem to remember what he even had said. “It's nice here.”

His heart palpitates at her confession. It’s genuine. She’s not lying and he kisses her shoulder for that matter, letting her continue with the way something else sits on the top of her tongue. A but.

However, that’s the end of her confession. Nothing else more that falls like honey from her lips and it makes him wonder. Lost in thought, he fails to miss the way she kisses his chest. The way her hand snakes between slick bodies and grips him.

He groans carefully as his eyes find hers, wide and doe like, she feigns innocence with a lip between teeth.

“Kiss me.”

It’s not a question she asks but one she demands. He doesn’t kiss a second to duck his head and press his parted mouth against hers. Hot and slick, they collide like rocks, she’s so incredibly warm and her hands, they feel like small tender things.

There’s a moment where it’s only the sound of wet bodies under the water. Only then, through a heated moment of breaths. “Touch me, please.”

Back then, he would’ve told her to slow then. The doubt in him, the guilt in corrupting this kind pretty thing, would stop himself. Now, the eagerness in her voice, a small whine mixed with a whimper, edges the hand placed over her stout tummy further down south to where—

“Oh.”

He touches her like that.

Under the warm water, he feels the tuft of hair when he slips a finger further and further down to where she’s swollen and aching. She whimpers louder this time, doesn’t bother hiding her voice of pleasure as he circles against her hard.

He kisses to soften her sounds. While he loves the sound of her, like a pretty melody sung by the god, he wants to taste her more. 

He fingers harder and further as he finally slips a medal finger inside. A curve to his digit, the heel of his palm rubs like paper against her. It makes her hips buck in heat at the sensation. A needy little thing his love is, only for him.

Heavens, she even claws at his wrist as she pushes him down. The water splashes a paint of wetness on her cheeks, in her parted mouth when she pulls away from her James for a hot breath. Her tongue makes an appearance to lick at her swollen lips, but the brunet behind her seems more eager than her when she feels his tongue kiss her own

She finishes just like that.

A breathy whimper leaves her lips, hot and heavy as her tummy contrasts and her legs shake the water. Bucky chuckles against her forehead when her eyes flutter shut. A pretty girl she is, he thinks. Mine.

He lulls her back to reality, his fingers slipping out of her with careful ease thanks to the water, but she’s already whining for more as she grips his hand.

“James.”

He frowns at the way her voice carries the same eagerness yet formidable lack of sincerity. His gaze finds her own when he looks down. It lacks of his honey. His petal. 

Unconsciously, he rubs his knuckles against her cheek and she sighs. “Please?”

“Another time, honey.” He clicked his tongue as his frown deepened, she knew that look all too well. But she takes it, doesn’t bite back a rebuttal and lays back. She sighs, pinches her eyes shut at the sensation of his fingers circling her breast.

Another time.

  
  
  
  


He tucks her in like a babe. Her body, small compared to his own, curled in a ball under the quilt she begged him to bring. It’s hotter in their room. Bucky believes it it’s the heater. They never had that in their lake house. It’s a nice luxury.

He lays beside her. A sigh as he stretches on to his side. He faces her back, while under the quilt, she’s bare.

His fingers ache to touch her. When they do, she’s unbelievably warm and soft. She is barely even asleep when he caresses her. Gentle circles at the back of her spine, he drags fingers with a purpose.

She groans in response and it catches his attention. Bucky simply grins to himself at the sound of her, actions never stopping to their accord.

The air between pauses.

He hears her pulse race under his touch and her breathing quickens. 

Then she says it.

“You love him, don’t you?” Her voice breaks at the idea itself. “T - that’s why you wanted to come here… because you wanted to see  _ him _ again.”

Her heart shatters at the way she entertains this idea without proof. But she knows her James. Those wide doe eyes, the same ones she gives to him. Now reserve for the blond.

He’s quiet this time. A moment or two passes, they don’t know at this point. But still, ever continuous, his fingers trace her skin, warm.

And she wonders what rushes through his mind. Fear. Pain. Love. She doesnt know and she creates her own idea of pain. She pushes him away. Emotionally. She sits miles away.

But he’s speaking up. A call to her. “I did.”He tells her like it was a curse. It hurts him more than it does her. And she thinks that’s it. The confession of a man who claimed held her heart like it was glass. Like it was the world. Like she was world. She worries that she’s upset him.

His voice rasps the next time. 

“But I love you more.”

His lips on her back are cold.

A small feat of a reminder of their love. 

“So much more.”

A tear glides over the course of her cheek. It rushes down, lets her lips have a taste of her inner turmoil and she gasps a sob. 

She fears him when he pulls her close. Her back to his chest, he’s hidden in the crook of her neck. It’s different this time. Back then, back in their cabin or lake house, she hides in his. It’s his turn.

She fears his words. She fears herself. The guilt and the doubt, it sits like wood under a chimney. Ready to burn. To be lit. Hesitant, she listens to his breathing like he does.

She knows he does truly love her. Like a cherry wine stain, he’ll always be hers and her to him. Yet, why does he taste like a bittersweet feeling. It churns her stomach. Her heart pinches the way her brows do when she finally turns to him.

Eyes, blue as ever, stare into her own. She feels at ease from a simple look. But deeper, as she digs, the monster growls at her. He takes notice and his hand does the work. He holds her in his palm.

“What’s on your mind.”

She sighs, confused. And he wipes her tear stained cheeks.

“I don’t know.”

It’s an admission of her doubt. Something inside of her that forces the truth to come despite the frown and hurt displayed on Bucky’s face. It’s short lived.

His worst fears comes into light. His old love and his new one. It’s not a lie when he says he loves her more. But it’s not a lie when she said he loved him.

In some ways, she has every right to be angry. He would but he never found a fibre in his being to look for a flaw in her that made his stomach boil. She’s perfect. That’s all that matters to him.

And he loves her.

Even if she’s unsure now about her own compassion towards him. It’s okay, he tells himself, a little bit to her as he kisses her forehead, nose, and lips. 

“We have all the time in the world, little one.” He loves her. So much more. That’s true. 

She falls into slumber, pressed against his chest. She’s colder now, the quilt falls off her tiny frame and reveals those purple stained skin. He covers her dignity. He wishes her a goodnight. Even if it just offers her some hours of peace. 

He too joins her soon.

In the morning, she’s gone from his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i have a playlist for this series! check it out
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4sKIHz5BYAnxVJ6bmQyea9?si=4ysnyNJSQxKyaO_LONQTXA


	20. From the Dining Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ we haven't spoke since you went away  
> comfortable silence is so overrated  
> why won't you ever say what you want to say?”
> 
> — from the dinning table

She finds a routine. One that she can stick to. The house is fairly big, so there’s much work to do around.

She sweeps the floors. Washes the dishes. Clean the chimney. It’s a lot to do. But she doesn’t mind. Better than sitting alone where silence eats at her away.

Somewhere in her mind, she finds entertainment.

Sometimes, though rarely, she remembers his touch, his kiss, and his lips. Sometimes, she thinks of his teeth. The ones that sunk into her during full moons where guilt and lust gnawed at their self control.

She doubts herself more now.

Through every reflection of herself. She finds a flaw. Everyday for the past few weeks she’s settled here. Every day, a new surface she finds herself, eyes, wide and doe like, yet sadness carved them, she finds herself looking back.

Her mind begins a list.

Her nose.

Mouth.

Chin.

Breasts.

Thighs.

Sometimes her neck.

He comes home to her more often when she’s debating with herself. 

This week, she finishes a shower. Her hair wet and soaked, she steps out of their bedroom with pants shorter than before. He has the heaters to thank for that.

She freezes. There’s an air between them that sits with unease. Like a wrong step, it’ll come crashing. He’s hesitant to touch her, even doubts his self worth in the process. When he does, she welcomes the hand around her hips.

“You’re cold.”

She doesn’t mind it. Only welcomes it like home. To her, it’s reassuring. She likes the way his touch sends chills. Especially so when he kisses her neck. The gold chain dangles between, it even glimmers under the light.

She sees herself in the mirror and finds him. His eyes, pinched closed. She pushes herself back into him. An act of wanting reassurance. She wants him. She can’t.

She has to meet Peter soon. She only remembers now. But her eyes are back to her, the mirror. Her face pinches and her stomach churns. She grows disgusted.

He takes notice. He finds the furrow between her brows and he stares at her reflection. He kisses her neck more, a reassurance. Attempts to pull her back.

“Don’t.” And she knows what he’s telling her. Don’t think about it. Don’t think of yourself like that. Just don’t. 

He slips a hand under her shorts. She’s familiar with his touch, despite the chill. She shudders with ease, her tummy turns back and she sighs. Just this one. She’ll let him have it.

She’s so close. Nearly there when he scratches against her skin like sandpaper. Rough fabric of his sweater, she misses the feeling. She’ll have to thank him later tonight. 

The door booms before she gasps. 

Her eyes wide. Fuck. It’s Peter.

“Just let go.” He tells her. He’s right, she thinks. Peter can wait. She needs this moment. For her. For him. To tell the both of them they’re here and they’re not leaving. Never. Not even after a million lifetimes. They’re for each other.

  
  
  
  


It’s colder than she’s used to. She has to wear layers within layers. Underneath all of it, she still wears her James’ clothes. Despite her anger, her doubt, she’ll never not want him. 

Every step she takes, every tug on the sleeves of her jacket, she smells him so prominently. She tries to listen to Peter, he talks about the neighbourhood and the people. She hears him, yes, but mentally she’s absent.

“I think it’s cool that Mr. Barnes agreed to come here.” 

Her eyes follow the teenager, he circles a tree trunk. A branch in his hands. She gently smiles when his gaze falls upon her like a fish, wide. 

Her fingers nip at the skin on her thumb, a bad habit that James would scold her for. “Peter?” His name comes out before she can even think of a question.

His attention is already on her. She feels put on the spot and her heart races at his gaze. There’s a moment she has to pause, think for herself.

Then she’s asking the one thing she told herself she wouldn’t. “Did you know about Steve and James?” 

The look on the teenager’s face is enough to ring the guilt back into her bones. It rattles like the trees and she picks at her skin. Eyes nothing but settled on the answer settled on his lip.

He shook his head and he frowned. He was no smarter than an 18 year old but he was perceptive. 

“Mr. Rogers is a very private person.” Is all she thinks he’ll say. An effort from his end to preserve her innocence. She is doing that for him. She lost hers years ago when her father died. More so when she found herself with her James. She doesn’t regret her time with him, only now she doubts it.

“I don’t think anyone knew aside from Mrs. Carter.”

Her attention is pique at the mention of a Carter.

“Mrs. Carter?”

Peter’s head doesn't peer up from where he is. Under a tree branch and he swings on it with ease. With familiarity.

“She used to be Mr. Roger’s wife.” Something else sits on Peter’s tongue. A continuation of his answer. He confirms it when he speaks again, this time a stutter. “Uh, that is until she… Well, um.”

She gets irritated easily. 

Yet, she feigns patience as Peter scratches his head.

“She died not too long ago.” She purses her lip in question. Death is not an unfamiliar sight for her. She’s dealt with it way before this Hell happened and wag before her James. It’s part of her life and surely, it is in Peter’s. “I think she got sick.”

He’s not too sure either. It makes her ever confused. But she believes this Carter, well, she believed she’s as much as Steve’s lover the way Steve is to her James.

It’s not much given that she’s dead but it eases her doubt that there was someone else other than her James. Perhaps she isn’t the only one in his life that he’s loved before, that was a thing she was oh for sure of during their time in the lake house.

And despite that, despite everything James told her about being the only one he’s ever truly loved so wholeheartedly, seeing his eyes with Steve breaks her every time it replays. 

“Are you alright?”

She blinks up at him. Feigns a smile so true it fools the teenager. But what more can she expect from him. He’s simply just collateral and knew of no truth. 

“I am.” She walks over to him. “Thank you.”

But he knows better than he entails. He tugs on his sweater, inches his turtle neck down and kindly offers her a smile. One of reassurance. 

“Love is a complicated thing.”

She simply nods at this and he continues.

“Mr. Barnes’ isn’t. That much I know. He looks at you like…” A pause settles on his tongue and his head turn. “There’s just so much of him in his eyes it feels intimate. It’s hard to doubt it.”

Her gaze falls, it falls unwillingly and she finds orange leaves on the ground. It crunches and breaks. Dead leaves, a reminder of what once summer. A tear traces down her cheeks, she’s quick to rub them away as she gazes up at Peter with a gentle smile.

“I appreciate it. Everything.”

His nod is just as awkward as the silence that takes over. She bites her lips, a response as she thinks of where her James must be. She knows, he’s at home, but she wonders where his mind lays.

Does it lay where hers is? Sitting on the fine line of love and jealousy, she’s unsure if that’s where he is. He told her that he sits on their love, their home, and everything that they’ve built. Now, she doesn’t know at all.

Confusion clouds here judgement and her love. It’s a scary thing and she wishes she could revert to her mother’s arms. The same ones that held her, coddled her in times of fear and need. She will have to do that for herself as she has no one but her.

For a moment in time, in a place where the streets bustle with life, people, as if Hell had never rained upon on them, she’s never felt more alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for this chapter to be so short, i’ve been kind of having a block with this series and i only get little bits of inspiration through out the day.... but here’s the long awaited chapter!! enjoy <33
> 
> i’m also on tumblr (@starsvck)


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